Through the Hour Glass
by Dawkney
Summary: A blunder with the Time Turner sends Hermione and Ron back to the days when the Marauders ruled the school. As Harry works to bring them back to the future, Hermione finds herself caught in an exasperating love triangle (quadrangle?) with Ron, Lupin and S
1. Part One

Title: Through the Hour Glass Author: Kate Spoilers: Everything through Book Five is fair game. Feedback: Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Disclaimer: Uh, this little leprechaun just walked by, saying something about how JK owns these characters, not me. Shocking, huh? No infringement intended, this is all for fun, not profit, yadda, yadda, and, for good measure, yadda. Rating: R.  
  
Classification: General/Romance.  
  
Summary: A blunder with the Time Turner sends Hermione and Ron back to the days when the Marauders ruled the school. As Harry works to bring them back to the future, Hermione finds herself caught in an exasperating love triangle (quadrangle?) with Ron, Lupin and Sirius. Sigh. What is a girl to do? (And, yes, I do realize that the Time Turner thing has been done to death. Sorry to be kicking a dead horse). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It was shaping up to be a rather odd day.  
  
The morning had started ordinarily enough, Hermione recalled with a sigh, as she strolled exhaustedly down a deserted corridor toward the common room. She was awakened by the sound of mad giggling, as Lavender and Parvati discussed Seamus Finnigan in such a way that Hermione suspected one of the girls currently fancied him, though their preferences changed so often it was near impossible to keep track.  
  
Hermione lay still for awhile, staring up at the red canopy above her bed, her head swimming from the dreams that had troubled her all night. She tried to remember...Voldemort had been holding her captive...Ron and Harry had been there...  
  
It dawned on her with a rush of pain in her chest. Voldemort said he would only kill one of the boys. He left it to Hermione to decide who lived and who died.  
  
She rolled onto her side and curled into the fetal position, the memories of the dream causing sweat to bead on her neck and back. It had all seemed so real. She could feel her horror, her anger, her panic and confusion as if it were all really happening, right in this moment. How could she ever choose between her best friends?  
  
With that thought, Lavender drew aside the curtains around Hermione's bed and, still giggling in her shuddering, inane manner, looked back at Parvati.  
  
"Should we ask her?"  
  
Parvati nodded. Hermione wished desperately that she had her own bedroom.  
  
"Who would you rather kiss, Filch or Snape?"  
  
Hermione groaned. "I would rather kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt."  
  
"That wasn't an option!" Parvati squealed.  
  
Hermione sat up and considered her tittering bunkmates. How was it that they were supposed to defend the free world against the threat of Lord Voldemort with mad girls such as these on their side?  
  
"All right," she said at last. "I suppose that if I absolutely had to choose, if I was under the penalty of death perhaps, I would choose Snape."  
  
Lavender and Parvati both squealed. "She choose Snape! Ew!"  
  
"And who would you choose?"  
  
That brought the squealing to an abrupt end. Both Lavender and Parvati muttered indecipherably under their breath and wandered off toward the lavatories. Hermione smiled to herself. How very typical.  
  
But the day had taken its first odd turn when she arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, only to see that the Head Table was nearly deserted. Only Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, and Filch sat at the long, beautifully appointed table. There were no other Professors in sight, though the school ghosts were all quite visible, floating around the Hall in groups of two or three, whispering quietly amongst themselves.  
  
Hermione located Harry and Ron and hurried to sit with them.  
  
"Morning, Mione," Ron said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He smiled broadly, beaming, and Hermione thought quite painfully of her dream.  
  
"Never mind that," she said hurriedly, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. "Where are all of the Professors?"  
  
"We were just talking about that," Harry replied. "We think something might have happened. Something with Voldemort."  
  
Ron choked loudly on his food. "What have I told you about saying that name while I'm eating?"  
  
Hermione ignored him. "Yes, I think you're probably right. No Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid or Snape. So all of the mem..." She stopped herself from mentioning the Order of the Phoenix. "Well, you know. They're all gone."  
  
It seemed a portent of something quite dreadful, though most of their fellow students seemed more pleased with the absence of authority than troubled. Only a small group of Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, seemed to consider it worthy of careful examination, and Hermione watched as he whispered dramatically to those gathered around him.  
  
As breakfast wound to a close, Hermione, Harry and Ron gathered their belongings and headed down to the Potions dungeon, wondering if Snape would show up in time to teach the class.   
  
The three of them, against all logical predictions, had somehow managed to scrape the sought after "Outstanding" mark on their Potions O.W.L, and though both Harry and Ron had seemed quite keen to drop the class, Molly Weasley had convinced them to stick it out. Advanced Potions was necessary should they wish to pursue a career as an Auror, and so, after much grumbling, the boys had decided to continue.  
  
It seemed an error. Snape was as nasty and bullish as ever, and the small class size allowed him to hiss at the three Gryffindors relentlessly. Perhaps he was resentful that three Gryffindors had tested into the class, whereas the other houses, including his own, had only produced two Advanced Potions student each.   
  
Unfortunately for Hermione and her friends, the students from Slytherin were Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, two of their least favorite people in the world. Indeed, as Malfoy and Pansy came trotting down the hallway, Pansy sniggered wildly and pointed at Hermione.  
  
"Lovely hair style, Hermione," she said. Hermione resisted the urge to self consciously touch her thick hair, which she had pinned up quite haphazardly in a rush to get to breakfast. "Looks like a badger got caught atop your head."  
  
Pansy and Draco shared a laugh before the other waiting students turned to glare at them. Hermione smiled. Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillian were all members of the DA, and looked none too kindly on these particular Slytherins. Knowing they were outnumbered, Pansy clamped her sour lips together. Draco, however, continued to smirk, but remained blissfully silent.  
  
"One of these days," Harry growled under his breath. Ron nodded emphatically.  
  
Moments passed, and still Snape did not sweep down the hall to open the classroom door, nor did he emerge from within the room. Hermione rocked on her heels, wondering what could possibly be keeping the Professor so otherwise occupied, and then felt a strange prickling on her neck. The feeling was familiar: that of unwelcome eyes upon her.  
  
She turned and saw Malfoy staring absently at her, an unfocused expression on his pointed face. It was almost as if he was admiring...  
  
"Oh God!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly recognizing that glint in his eyes as lust. Draco snapped his eyes away, a red flush almost creeping over his pale cheeks. Harry and Ron turned hurriedly toward her.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head, pulling her robes up to cover her exposed neck, which she rarely left uncovered. She did not quite know why, but when she did certain boys had always reacted that way. She was too absorbed in other matters to see what they saw: that her neck and throat were nearly flawless, and could very easily have been mistaken for the work of a truly gifted sculptor.  
  
"Nothing," she replied, when Ron prodded her with his gaze. "Just...never mind."  
  
Footsteps suddenly sounded at the other end of the hall, but Hermione knew even without looking that they did not belong to Snape, who walked with much more force. Sure enough, it was Madame Pomfrey approaching.  
  
"Go on inside now," she said, waving the students into the room. "Professor Snape is off today. I'll be teaching his classes."  
  
Hermione, Harry and Ron all exchanged a curious look. Something was definitely going on.  
  
* * *  
  
Yes, it had thus far been quite an unusual day, and as Hermione reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she wondered again over the absence of the Professors. Advanced Arithmancy had been canceled, as Professor Vector was nowhere to be found, and so Hermione decided to take the opportunity to work ahead in the textbook.   
  
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with activity, as students celebrated the cancellation of several classes. Hermione saw Ginny seated on a couch near the fireplace with Dean Thomas, and she waved at the younger girl, who immediately beckoned her over. Hermione frowned apologetically and held up her Arithmancy text book. Ginny seemed to understand.  
  
Hermione found a quiet chair in the corner, taking a quick look around for Harry and Ron, but neither was present. Harry was probably working with Firenze on his independent Divination project, which he was under strict orders from Professor Dumbledore not to discuss, though Hermione had some inklings as to the nature of the exercise. One did not need to be terribly clever to figure out that Dumbledore wanted Harry to be fully prepared for the coming battles with Voldemort. Ron was perhaps practicing down at the Quidditch field, as he did quite frequently now that he was Captain of the Gryffindor team.  
  
Hermione tried her hardest to keep busy, but her eyes kept drifting to the window beside her, and her mind quickly followed. What could have happened to draw so many dedicated teachers away from their classes?  
  
As if in reply to her silent question, Hedwig alighted on the sill, a letter attached to her leg. Her amber eyes scanned the room.  
  
"Sorry, Hedwig, but Harry isn't here," Hermione said, coaxing the owl toward her. Hedwig considered Hermione for a moment before coming closer and extending her leg.   
  
Hermione detached the note and patted Hedwig gently before the snowy owl took off for the Owlery. She went to open the letter but stopped when she saw that it was clearly addressed to Harry; though she was sure Harry would not mind, Hermione felt too guilty about reading his mail without him present. She tucked her books and parchment aside and left the activity of the common room behind.  
  
Her footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Hermione begin to hurry toward the Divination classroom. There was something spooky about the castle now that she knew so many of the people she relied on were gone. Hogwarts seemed quite vulnerable without the likes of Dumbledore and McGonagall.  
  
They might still be here, Hermione reasoned, just tucked away, holding a private meeting in one of the many quiet rooms Hogwarts hid within her walls. The thought emboldened her slightly, even as she heard sudden footsteps trailing her own.  
  
"Hey Mudblood!"  
  
Hermione stopped on her heels and sighed at the sound of the too familiar voice. She was in no mood to deal with Malfoy and his taunts, especially after the way he had looked at her before Potions, but she knew not responding would only egg him on.  
  
"What is it, Malfoy?" she snapped. She turned to face him, rolling her eyes at his smirk and his saunter, for she knew it was all a facade. One glimpse of her wand held in her able hands and Malfoy would melt like butter.  
  
"Just a little chat," Malfoy responded. She watched his eyes travel to her throat and she wished she had thought to take her hair down. "Quite cozy without all the professors around, isn't it?"  
  
Hermione reached into her robes and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her wand. She could beat him in a duel, hands down, if it ever came to that, and knowing Malfoy...  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy cried, and just soon as her fingers grazed her wand it flew out of her grasp. Malfoy caught it with ease. He grinned. "Have to be quicker than that, Mudblood."  
  
Hermione crossed her arms and tried to keep her face set. She would not let Malfoy know that he was making her quite nervous. "What do you want?" she hissed.  
  
"Like I said," Malfoy answered, moving dangerously close to her, "just a chat."  
  
He attempted to slip his hands beneath her robes. Hermione pushed him away and he staggered backwards, leaving them both a little surprised by how strong she was.  
  
"Why would you ever want to touch a Mudblood like me, Malfoy?" she exclaimed.   
  
"Who would ever know, Granger? It's just you and me. No one around to see." He advanced on her again. "No one around to save you..."  
  
"Immobulus!"  
  
Malfoy stopped, frozen in his tracks, a look of profound annoyance on his face. Ron hurried down the hallway, wand out.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, breathing hard, his face as red as his hair. "Did her hurt you?"  
  
"No." Hermione walked over to Malfoy and snatched her wand from his hand. "He just annoyed the bleeding hell out of me."  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes in his frozen head.  
  
"Good," Ron said. "Now what should we do to him?"  
  
"Ron, do we really want to sink to his level?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Hermione thought a moment and nodded. "Okay." She raised her wand and directed it at Malfoy, who suddenly, even though he was unable to move, looked rather frightened. "Furnunculus!"  
  
Boils begin to erupt all over Malfoy. A moan sounded from between his plastered lips.  
  
Ron begin to laugh quite uncontrollably. He reached over and pushed Malfoy to the floor, where the immobile troublemaker rolled onto his side, groaning with frustration. He seemed to be swearing, though he could not open his mouth to free the words.  
  
"Come on, before he snaps out of it," Hermione said, taking hold of his arm and pulling him down the hallway.   
  
Ron resisted. "Wait...what is that?"  
  
He pointed Hermione towards something silver and glinting that peaked out from Malfoy's robe. Hermione knelt down and pulled the necklace from his neck.  
  
"Oh!" she gasped, seeing the small hourglass that hung from the lengthy chain. "Ron, do you know what this is?"  
  
Ron blinked. "Should I?"  
  
Malfoy moaned something surely quite nasty. Hermione tucked the Time Turner in the pockets of her robes and grabbed Ron by the wrist, hurrying him down the corridor and out of sight.  
  
"What is that thing?"  
  
"Something Malfoy certainly should not have," Hermione breathed. "But how could he have gotten it? I wonder if...but no...I wish we knew where Professor McGonagall was."  
  
"Where are we going?" Ron asked. He looked down at her hand, which was still clamped on his wrist, though she did not seem to notice.   
  
"To find Harry," Hermione said. She released his wrist, much to Ron's disappointment, and produced the letter Hedwig delivered from within her robes. "Hedwig just brought this. Do you recognize the handwriting?"  
  
Ron glanced at the tidy script. "Looks familiar."  
  
"It's Moony's writing, I'm sure of it. I think he may be writing about what's happening, why all the Professors are gone."  
  
That seemed to inspire Ron to pick up the pace as they made their way to the Divination classroom. They slowed as they approached the door, not wanting to disturb anything important.  
  
"Go look," Ron urged her.  
  
Hermione tiptoed to the door and peered inside. Harry was seated on the ground of the classroom, which was enchanted to look like the forest at night. The light of his wand illuminated several rolls of parchment before him. He seemed to be very hard at work, but Firenze did not seem to be with him.  
  
Hermione knocked softly. Harry looked up, surprised, and waved her and Ron inside.  
  
"Close the door behind you," she whispered to Ron. "Is Firenze here?"  
  
"He left a few minutes ago," Harry said, as Ron shut the door and joined Harry and Hermione on the floor. "What is it?"  
  
Hermione handed him the letter. "I think it may be from Lupin."  
  
Harry immediately tore the letter open and read aloud.  
  
Dear Harry, Doubtless you have noticed that some of your Professors are absent from Hogwarts at the moment. I write not to tell you where they have gone, as I cannot do so in such an unsecured manner, but to tell you not to worry. We are doing what is necessary for our side, and so far everyone who is here is well.  
  
"So far?" Hermione repeated. She did not like what that implied.  
  
Keep to the castle. You are protected inside, but it is quite another story on the grounds, and even while inside I would prefer it if you stuck together. Perhaps I will be able to send more details soon. Take care, Moony.  
  
"Sound serious," Ron said. Hermione was inclined to agree, despite Lupin's assurance that they should not worry.  
  
"Where do you think they are?" she asked.  
  
"Headquarters maybe?" Harry suggested. "It sounds like the Order is together."  
  
"But why?" Ron was pale. Hermione could sense that Ron was concerned for his parents and older brothers, all of whom were in the Order of the Phoenix.  
  
Harry sighed. "Maybe they have a chance to take the offensive against Voldemort. Do something proactive."  
  
"Nothing we can do, though," Ron said, sounding all at once quite miserable. "Just sit around and wait for Malfoy to come hex us into oblivion."  
  
"What?" Harry asked. Hermione quickly filled him in on what happened in the empty corridor. Harry was soon fuming.  
  
"That's it, he's crossed the line," Harry said, trying to get to his feet. "I'll kill him."  
  
Hermione pulled him back down by the hem of his robes. "You won't have to," she said. She removed the Time Turner from her pocket. "We found this on him."  
  
"A Time Turner? Why would Malfoy have one of those?"  
  
"I have no idea, but I doubt his possession of it has been approved by the Ministry of Magic. I remember how many hurdles I had to jump in order to use one for my studies, and that was with McGonagall and Dumbledore on my side."  
  
Ron took the pendant from her. "Ah, this is one of those Time Turner things, isn't it? Hope Malfoy hasn't used it yet. Think of all the damage he could do."  
  
"I would rather not," Hermione said. "We need to get this to someone who can find out what, if anything, he has done."  
  
"But who?" Harry replied. "Dumbledore and McGonagall are gone, and who knows when they might be back?"  
  
"We could take it to Filch," Hermione suggested. "He confiscates dangerous objects all the time."  
  
Ron was examining the Time Turner in an innocent enough manner, but his movements were making Hermione very nervous. She knew how dreadful a slip of his hand could be. She watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye, ready to snatch the object away at the slightest hint of trouble.  
  
"Yeah, but how could we convince him that we got it from Malfoy? Filch will think we have been using it," Harry argued.  
  
"I suppose." She sighed. "Okay then. We hide it until McGonagall and Dumbledore get back and then we give it to them. Agreed?"  
  
Harry and Ron nodded.  
  
"How does this thing work anyway?" Ron asked. He went to turn the hourglass over but Hermione stopped him with a sharp jab in his side.  
  
"Stop!" she ordered. "You might send yourself back in time, and then what?"  
  
"You did it."  
  
"Yes, but I had careful instructions. Ask Harry, he can tell you how fragile time travel is. One mistake and poof! You could end up killing yourself, or us, or anyone for that matter!"  
  
Ron smiled. "Anyone? Even Malfoy?"  
  
"That isn't funny, Ron."  
  
But Ron seemed to think it was funny, as he was holding back a chuckle, and even Harry seemed somewhat amused by Hermione's squirming. They loved to tease her, like brothers, and though she usually did not mind, this was serious.  
  
"Okay, okay," Ron said. "But what would happen if I did this?" He started shaking the hourglass.  
  
"Ron, stop it!"  
  
"And if I throw it up into the air and catch it?"  
  
"Ron!" She watched helplessly as the hourglass spun around and around in the air. Ron reached up to catch it and, purely on instinct, Hermione reached to do the same.  
  
Their hands clasped over the Time Turner at the same time. Hermione felt the familiar sensation that she was falling backward...  
  
* * *  
  
Harry blinked. He was suddenly quite alone in the Divination classroom. He stood and begin to peek around the various trees and shrubs that were in the enchanted room.  
  
"Hermione? Ron?"  
  
His friends were gone. He felt his stomach lurch as he realized that shaking a Time Turner was probably not a very good idea. In fact, it was probably one of the worst mistakes Ron ever made.  
  
Harry, filled with resolve, sprinted from the classroom. His friends needed help.  
  
They needed someone from the Order of the Phoenix. 


	2. Part Two

A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Hermione and Ron landed on solid earth with a resounding thump. Hermione closed her eyes against the rush of pain flooding her body, and as she rolled onto her back she was quite certain she would soon be covered in bruises.  
  
"Mione..." Ron muttered, and she opened her eyes just enough to look over at him. He was also lying on his back, a defiant red scrape on his cheek, highlighting the spot where his face connected with the ground. "What happened? Are you okay?"  
  
Hermione looked up, hoping to see the crimson canopy of her bed, hoping it was all a dream, but instead she saw an inky black sky. Not an enchanted ceiling, either, but the true sky and stars. They were outside.  
  
"Am I okay?" she repeated. "I think so." She then reached over and punched Ron in the arm.  
  
"Ow!" he cried. "What did you do that for?"  
  
"Do you have any idea what you have done?" she exploded, blinking away pain as she leapt to her feet. She brushed dirt from her robes and looked around. They were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts glittered, almost as if it were alive, against the night sky.  
  
Ron stood on shaky legs. "Well..." his voice trailed. His expression was so helpless that Hermione would have felt bad for him had she not been so absolutely furious.  
  
"Well!" she repeated. "You've sent us back in time!"  
  
"Maybe only a few hours..."  
  
"Yes, maybe only a few hours, but maybe days, maybe weeks! There is no telling, not with the way you were shaking that ruddy Time Turner! Where is it?"  
  
Ron seemed quite frightened by her snapping, and with good reason, as Hermione was angrier than she had been in a very long time. He felt the pockets of his robes and looked desperately around, to no avail, until his eyes landed upon something that made his face fall.  
  
"Oops..."  
  
Hermione followed his gaze and let out a small shriek. The Time Turner was shattered into a thousand pieces, its sand already disappearing into the surrounding soil.  
  
"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Hermione moaned, falling to her knees and attempting to gathered what remained of the object. "Oh, dear, no, no, how will we ever get back now?"  
  
"I'm really sorry, Hermione," Ron begin, but Hermione rounded on him, eyes flashing. She shoved what was left of the Time Turner into her pocket.  
  
"You...you...you...foolish boy!"  
  
Ron blushed scarlet.  
  
"Come on!" she snapped suddenly, turning and charging toward the castle. "We have to figure out when, exactly, in the past we are, and we have to do it without being seen and without altering anything. So keep close, do not touch anything, and keep quiet!"  
  
Ron followed after her, finding it odd that she had instructed him to be quiet when she kept angrily exclaiming, "Oh, oh, oh!" and "Ron!" but he dared not mention this to her. He simply hoped she did not think to draw her wand on him and curse him as she cursed Malfoy.  
  
Not that she would ever do that to him...right?  
  
As they made their way up to the castle, they passed a familiar cabin near the edge of the forest. Smoke was billowing from the chimney.  
  
"Mione?" Ron whispered.  
  
"What is it?" she hissed.  
  
"Um...wherever in time we are...um...Hagrid seems to be home. Maybe we should ask him for help."  
  
"No! We cannot be seen, Ron, by anyone, at least not until we know more about where...when...we are."  
  
"And how will we do that?"  
  
"We have to find ourselves. After we see where we are and what we are doing, we'll know." She sighed again. "I think it may be last night. We will have to make our way up to the dormitories. If I am wearing my checkered pajamas, then it is last night."  
  
"But we can't be seen."  
  
"Exactly. So hush! Please!" A strange look fell over her face, and when she spoke again her voice was calmer, more resigned. "We have to work together to do this right. Okay?"  
  
He nodded, smiling, immensely pleased that she was neither screaming nor hissing at him, though she was still trembling with restrained tension. And then, without warning, she reached down and took his hand. "Just stay close," she whispered.  
  
Ron knew he was beaming like an idiot as she lead him toward the castle, just as he knew that he was not being as careful as he should be. But it was hard to think of anything but Hermione when she was clutching his hand like that. He could do nothing but watch her lush hair bouncing atop her head and grin.  
  
"You should wear your hair up more often, Mione," he sputtered, noticing suddenly just how graceful her neck looked.   
  
Hermione could not believe her ears. "What?"  
  
"I said..."  
  
"I heard you! Oh, Ron, is this really the time? Just be quiet," she said, dumbfounded that Ron would choose this of all moments to flirt with her.  
  
She slowed their pace as they approached the main entrance into Hogwarts. It was imperative that no one heard them trotting through the Entrance Hall. She wished they had the Invisibility Cloak. She would even accept an Invisibility Napkin if such a thing existed...  
  
She ascended the first step and then stopped, staggering backwards, collapsing into Ron. "Oh no...no, this cannot be happening, it simply cannot be happening!"  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked, trying to hold her steady, though her legs seemed to have given out beneath her. She dug her fingers into his robes and continued to mutter, "Oh dear...oh, what will we do...oh no..."  
  
"What?" he repeated. Hermione raised a shaking hand and pointed to the enormous doors that led into their beloved school.  
  
Ron let her collapse into a heap on the ground as he moved closer to the doors. A small sign greeted him:  
  
In celebration of Albus Dumbledore's Fifth Year anniversary as Headmaster, an outdoor banquet and fireworks display will take place on the evening of 19 September, All students and staff are invited to attend.  
  
"The nineteenth of September," Ron read, "Your birthday, Hermione, isn't that strange?"  
  
Hermione was somehow hyperventilating, shaking her head, and glaring at him all at the same time. "Ron," she gasped, "Dumbledore's fifth anniversary as Headmaster? Do you have any idea what that means? Really, Ron, do think!"  
  
Ron sat down beside her. "Just calm down a bit..."  
  
"Calm down? How can I calm down? You brought us all the way back to 1975!"  
  
Ron went quiet for a long time. He finally managed to sputter, "Are you sure?"  
  
She nodded. "Dumbledore became Headmaster in 1970, Ron. If this is the year of his fifth anniversary, than it has to be 1975! What are we going to do?"  
  
Ron had absolutely no idea. Hermione was the one who should know these things; she was the clever one. All he was capable of was making things worse. Not that things could be worse...  
  
As if on cue, the great oak doors opened and light from the Entrance Hall poured outside. Without thinking, Ron grabbed Hermione and pulled her into the bushes alongside the stairs.  
  
* * *  
  
Breathless, clutching a stitch in his side, Harry arrived at the door to Snape's office. After a quick trip to his dormitory, he now stood under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak, consulting the Marauder's Map. The area seemed quite clear, and so he pulled his penknife from his robes. It was a gift from Hermione, a replacement for the one Sirius had given him that had been destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry found it fitting that he was now using it to attempt to save her.  
  
He slipped the knife into the lock and opened the door with ease. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and removed the cloak, his heart ramming mercilessly in his chest. He drew his wand.  
  
"Lumos."  
  
Harry lit the torches positioned around the room. He then strode to the fireplace and took a large handful of Floo Powder. He threw it onto the lifeless logs, which immediately burned brilliant green.  
  
Kneeling down, he thrust his head into the flames and cried, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"  
  
He closed his eyes against the sudden movement, trying to keep from growing dizzy and ill. Once the movement ceased, he opened his eyes and found himself staring out at the kitchen of his late godfather's decrepit old home.  
  
It was odd even seeing it, as neither his head nor any other part of his body had been at Grimmauld Place since Sirius died, and a rush of memories came back with such intensity that Harry almost forgot why he was doing this in the first place. For a moment he just stared at his surroundings and remembered Sirius.  
  
But then Lupin appeared, coming down the stairs and crossing the kitchen in an obvious hurry, intense concentration evident on his lined face. Nymphadora Tonks followed after him.  
  
"I left the notes here," Lupin was saying, sorting through the parchment piled on the kitchen table. "We can..."  
  
"Ah, Remus?" Tonks said, a note of amusement in her voice. "We have a visitor."  
  
She pointed to Harry and waved merrily. Lupin turned and knelt before the fire.  
  
"Harry! What are you doing? What happened?"  
  
Tonks knelt down beside him. "Nice to see you, Harry. Or maybe I should say, nice to see part of you."  
  
Harry smiled. It was nice to see them as well, even if it was under these circumstances, as he thought Lupin and Tonks were two of the bravest people he knew. He only wished he felt as brave.  
  
His panic must have shown on his face, as Lupin brushed aside pleasantries with a wave of his hand, "Harry, is something wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I'm afraid so," Harry replied. He described what had happened with the Time Turner, and soon Lupin was shaking his head, disturbed, and Tonks was fidgeting; her hair color went from orange to green and back again.  
  
"Oh Harry," Lupin groaned. "How many times did the hourglass turn? Did you notice?"  
  
"I dunno. Maybe three or four."  
  
"Three or four hours isn't terrible, Remus," Tonks said.  
  
"Though Ron did shake it quite hard before it turned over."  
  
A thick silence fell. Lupin and Tonks stared back at him, as still as if they had been petrified. Harry squirmed.  
  
"Is that bad?"  
  
"I would hate to panic without reason..." Lupin said.  
  
"But you never, ever, ever shake a Time Turner!" Tonks finished. Her hair went bright red.  
  
"No, it generally is a rather bad idea."  
  
Harry felt his mouth go dry. "Why? What does shaking it do?"  
  
"It just makes it difficult to discern how far back in time a person goes," Lupin explained. "Generally, three rotations would translate to three hours, but after the Time Turner was shaken, it could mean three decades, even three centuries."  
  
"What?" Harry burst with a start, clanging his head against the side of the fireplace. He grimaced. "Three decades? Three centuries?"  
  
"Now stay calm..."  
  
"How am I supposed to stay calm? My best friends are lost in time! We have to get them back!"  
  
"Yes, we do," Lupin said. "But I dare say I am not familiar enough with time travel to be of much help."  
  
"Neither am I," Tonks added. "I think, for something this serious, you need Dumbledore."  
  
"Is he there?" Harry asked hopefully. He glasses slipped as he begin to sweat from the heat and stress of his environment and situation.  
  
"He isn't, Harry," Lupin said, his voice low as he reached forward to push Harry's glasses back up his nose. "And, unfortunately, we don't quite know where he is."   
  
There was another heavy pause. Lupin and Tonks shared what seemed a significant look. "Harry, I don't want you to worry, really I don't, but things aren't going too well right now."  
  
The was an uncomfortable lurch somewhere beyond the grate. "How do you mean? I haven't heard anything..."  
  
"No, you haven't. Dumbledore has suspended deliveries of the Daily Prophet to the school. He doesn't want widespread panic." Lupin sighed. "Voldemort has made progress. His numbers are growing quite faster than we expected. The Death Eaters have made attacks on Diagon Alley. People have died."  
  
Harry listened but could not bring himself to believe. "Is everyone...the Order...are they okay?"  
  
"For now," Lupin replied.  
  
"No news is good news, Harry," Tonks said in a would be cheerful tone, but Harry was unconvinced.  
  
"So Dumbledore is missing?"  
  
"Look, Harry, the very last person you should be concerned for is Dumbledore. He can more than handle himself. And though we do not know where he is, that does not mean he is unsafe. He is simply doing something that we cannot, or perhaps should not, know about quite yet."  
  
It was all too much. Panic for the Order mingled with fear for his friends.  
  
Ron and Hermione...this news would be so much easier to take if they were here with him. "And what of Ron and Hermione? We have to help them!"  
  
"We will." Lupin took a deep breath. "Tonks and I must do something for the Order, but I'll have the other members work to find a way to get Ron and Hermione back. You should do the same. There may be some helpful information in the library."  
  
"Professor McGonagall is here, Harry," Tonks said. "She may have some ideas."  
  
"Okay," Harry said. "If you find anything..."  
  
"We'll let you know. We can send an owl, or use the Floo network if need be. And if you find anything, you do the same."  
  
Harry nodded.   
  
"It'll be all right, Harry," Lupin assured him. "We'll get them back."  
  
"I know we will," Harry said, trying to believe the words even as he spoke them. With one last look at Lupin and Tonks, and one more glance at Grimmauld place, he drew his head from the fire and sat back on the floor of Snape's office.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione lifted her head ever so slightly as she peered over the bushes. The doors were now wide open, but no one had yet emerged. She thought she could hear footsteps...  
  
Ron was holding onto her, trying to steady her shaking shoulders, and perhaps trying to cop a feel. Hermione was quite content to let him do so, if it kept him quiet and still, and allowed her time to think.  
  
The door was open, and she heard rustling, but there was no one in sight. Maybe it was the wind, but no, that did not seem to make sense.  
  
And then, all at once, like she had been hit in the face with a snowball packed in ice, Hermione knew what was happening. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle a gasp.  
  
"Wha...?" Ron started, but Hermione clamped one hand over his mouth and used the other to fish her wand from her pocket.  
  
She performed a quick Disillusionment Charm under her breath and soon felt the sensation of cold trickling down her body. Ron must have felt the same thing, as he shivered and tried to protest from behind her hand.  
  
Hermione looked down, satisfied that their bodies were suitably camouflaged with their surroundings. Ron was trying to get her hand from his mouth, but Hermione held firm.  
  
The Hogwarts doors closed suddenly, slammed shut by an invisible force, and Ron stopped fighting her, straining his neck to see who had made the noise.   
  
The answer came before Hermione could draw another breath. There was a laugh, so uncannily like a bark, and a tall young man with dark hair emerged from beneath what was undeniably an Invisibility Cloak. He spread his arms wide, and Hermione could see the gold and scarlet crest on his sweater.  
  
"Sirius!" a voice snapped from beneath the cloak. Ron went slack beside her; Hermione felt his jaw drop like it was made of stone. It was not only the obvious shock of seeing Sirius, young, healthy, and alive, Hermione knew, that stunned him. It was the sound of that voice from beneath the cloak, so utterly familiar in its own right. She, too, felt as if she had been stupefied, as her mouth formed the word "Harry" entirely of its own volition.  
  
"Sirius, you are begging for trouble!"  
  
"Oh, James, it is the middle of the bloody night. Who could possibly see us?"  
  
"You know Snivellus would just love to catch us out here. Get us another week or two of detention."  
  
That laugh again. "Oi, Potter, are you really worried about oily old Snivellus? Let him catch us. We could duel in the dark."   
  
The charisma Sirius threw off, even under the cover of darkness, was undeniable. Sirius, not yet touched by the horrors to come, seemed a rather enchanting presence.  
  
"Take the cape off, James. It'll be difficult to practice with it on. All this time and all I can sprout is a tuft of hair and a swishy little tail. And you..."  
  
"I've done all right."  
  
"You get antlers and an attitude."  
  
A tail and antlers...they were practicing turning into Animagus! Hermione did some quick thinking. If it was 1975, Sirius and James were in their fifth year at Hogwarts; they would accomplish that exceedingly difficult task this year. A glance toward the sky revealed the full moon obscured behind a passing cloud. Lupin would be transformed into a werewolf, hidden away in the Shrieking Shack. Hermione could imagine how much they wanted to keep their dear friend company.  
  
A pause, and then James Potter threw off the Invisibility Cloak, and Hermione heard a loud cry of shock. It took her a moment to realize that the sound came from her, and Ron took the opportunity to repay a favor and clamp his hand over her mouth.  
  
"Mione," he muttered, but she could not stop whimpering, the little echoes of surprise escaping her before she could think to silence herself. She was just too overwhelmed by the sight of James Potter, the father Harry would never know. Pictures did not do the resemblance between father and son justice; they could have been twins. The height, the slimness, the ruffled hair, the glasses; if she allowed herself she could truly believe it was Harry before her.  
  
Hermione finally calmed herself and fell silent, but it was too late. Sirius and James both turned and stared directly at their hiding spot.  
  
"What was that?" James asked.  
  
"Sounded like a girl to me," Sirius replied.  
  
"And if anyone would recognize the sound of a girl crying out, it would certainly be you."  
  
Sirius lifted his wand playfully and sent a shock of sparks toward James. It was an easy, teasing gesture, not meant to scare or stun. Hermione saw Ron smile to himself out of the corner of her eye.  
  
The smile quickly faded from his face as Sirius came closer, his wand still held before him. Hermione held her breath; beside her Ron did the same.   
  
Oh please, let the Disillusionment Charm work, Hermione thought. Please, please, don't let them see us. Please...  
  
"See anything?" James asked, though his interest in the matter seemed to have waned, as there was nothing terribly threatening about a small cry from an invisible girl.  
  
Sirius was only feet from them. Hermione prayed that he could not hear her heart pounding against her ribcage. The seconds seemed to last forever as he stared at the bushes where they were tangled.  
  
"Nah," Sirius said, slipping his wand back up his sleeve. "Probably some lovebirds out for a midnight stroll. Now let's get a move on, Potter. I want to see if I can get my fangs right tonight."  
  
And with that, Sirius and James ran off toward the forest, laughing and teasing as they went, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.  
  
Neither of them moved. They stared after the two boys for a long moment.  
  
"That was..." Ron breathed, but what exactly the encounter was went unsaid, as Hermione turned toward him just in time to watch Ron faint dead away beside her. 


	3. Part Three

A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Their shoes squeaked beneath them as the crossed the Entrance Hall, and Hermione wondered if fate was conspiring to get them caught. It seemed that now, when it was so necessary for them to be quiet, their actions were noisier than ever. Even their breathing sounded deafening in her ears.  
  
It had taken the Ennervate Spell to rouse Ron from his shock induced faint, but Hermione could hardly begrudge him his reaction. It was quite safe to say that Sirius Black and James Potter were the people Hermione least expected to encounter when she woke this morning. Dead men usually told no tales, and very rarely did they wander freely, so young and carefree.  
  
"Mione, do you think you could lift this Disillusionment Charm?" Ron asked, frowning as his body blended with the surroundings of the Entrance Hall. "Sort of giving me the willies."  
  
"Not just yet," Hermione replied. "Wait until..."  
  
"Until what?"  
  
Good question, Hermione thought, as she really had no idea what to do next. They were wandering around in a world where, strictly speaking, they had yet to be born. Hermione was not even entirely certain her parents had meet as of the autumn of 1975. Every law of logic was violated by their presence here. How could they possibly seek assistance, which they desperately needed, without altering the past and changing the course of the future?  
  
Ron sighed when she offered him no reply. "Guess we have no choice, really," he said. "We have to go to Dumbledore."  
  
Hermione laughed out loud, her voice echoing like gunfire through the empty hall. "And say what?"  
  
"Tell him the truth," Ron said simply.  
  
"But, Ron, why should he believe us? We must remember, this is a very dark time in history we have landed ourselves in. The threat from Voldemort..."  
  
Ron cringed. "What is it with you saying that ruddy name?"  
  
"...is climbing toward its apex. If we go to Dumbledore, dressed as students when he has never seen us before, what will he think? He may think we have ill intentions."  
  
"But what other choice do we have? We can't just sit around and wait out the next quarter century, now can we?"  
  
It was a valid argument. Hermione despised it when Ron was right.  
  
"I say we just go up to his office and beg for help," Ron continued. Hermione acquiesced with a nod.  
  
They crept up the stairs to the second floor. The stone gargoyle stared expectantly at them as they came across it; even the statue seemed to recognize that they were out of place.  
  
"Know the password?" Ron asked her. "Dumbledore always has odd ones."  
  
Hermione glared at him. "Ron, how could I possibly know what his password was on this particular night in 1975?"  
  
"Dunno. I thought maybe it was in 'Hogwarts: A History' or something. You know all sorts of peculiar things."  
  
Hermione shook her head mournfully. "Oh, Ron, I really may have to kill you."  
  
Ron gulped. "Okay. Let me give it a try." He cleared his throat. "Ice Mice!"  
  
The gargoyle did not move.  
  
"Ice Mice were not invented until 1984, Ron," Hermione stated.  
  
Ron stared at her.  
  
"All right, so I know an odd fact or two," Hermione admitted. She then turned back to the statue. "Licorice Wand!"  
  
Still nothing happened. Hermione and Ron spent the next several minutes naming all the sweets they could think of, but the gargoyle remained unresponsive.  
  
"We may have to try something else," Ron suggested.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Ron opened his mouth, thought a moment, and then closed it again with a shrug.  
  
"Maybe his passwords centered on something else in the seventies," Hermione mused. "Maybe instead of candy, he was focused on pastries. Or tarts. Or maybe they had absolutely nothing to do with food. I mean, if you think of every object, emotion and phrase in the world, the list of potential passwords is..."  
  
"Endless." Ron stepped forward and smacked the gargoyle atop the head. "Hey, you stony git! Open up! Come on now!"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
Ron gave the gargoyle a swift kick and then hopped back, clutching at a freshly stubbed toe, cursing under his breath, "That was a bad idea."  
  
"Are you two in need of some assistance?"  
  
The voice came from right behind them. Hermione and Ron froze, their eyes going wide with fright, and they turned in a slow circle to face Albus Dumbledore.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, his eyes friendly but guarded as he observed them over his spectacles.  
  
"So I must ask you," he began, "who exactly you are, and why you are wandering about the castle in Gryffindor robes. Until this moment I was quite certain that I was familiar with each of the students in my care."  
  
Hermione was wringing her hands with such force that Ron was afraid her fingers would snap. "Well, you see, sir," she sputtered, "the thing of it is, we are your students. But not at this junction in history."  
  
"Could you please elaborate?" Dumbledore inquired.   
  
His guise remained friendly, but Hermione could see the scrutiny flashing in his eyes, and it occurred to her that explaining their situation properly would not be easy. Ron was at a complete loss for words, and Hermione was not fairing much better.  
  
Thinking that perhaps it would help to provide Dumbledore with something concrete, Hermione reached into her pocket and gathered the shards of the Time Turner. She placed the broken glass and glittering sand on his desk.  
  
Dumbledore drew the remnants of the Time Turner toward him. He studied the shattered object closely for what seemed an eternity, rubbing a grain of sand between his long fingers.  
  
"What are your names?" he asked. Hermione was relieved to hear that a note of understanding had entered his voice.  
  
"Hermione Granger, sir," she replied. "And this is Ronald Weasley."  
  
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and considered Ron with a twinkle of recognition. "Weasley?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Ron squeaked.  
  
"Arthur is your father?"  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
"But not yet, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione interjected. "Ron and I were born in 1980. We came to Hogwarts in 1991 and we have just begun our sixth year."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore said. "But this Time Turner has brought you back to 1975."  
  
"Right. Someone," Hermione looked accusingly at Ron, "was using it improperly."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore repeated. "You two are in quite a predicament."  
  
"But you can help us, right, sir?" Ron blurted.  
  
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. His eyes closed and Hermione felt that he was preparing to deliver some bad news.  
  
"Unfortunately, with the offending Time Turner broken, there is very little that can be done on this side of history. It is in my future, your present, where action will have to be taken. Is anyone aware of what has happened to you?"  
  
"Our friend Harry..." Hermione stropped, suddenly reluctant to identify Harry more clearly, for reasons she did not fully understand. "He knows," she finished feebly.  
  
"Than this Harry," Dumbledore smiled, "is your best hope to return to your time. I will do what I can to assist you, but I must stress that my powers are, at least in this matter, limited."  
  
Hermione understood. Ron stared fixedly at his shoes, the flush returning to his face as the full weight of guilt fell upon his shoulders.  
  
"In the meantime," Dumbledore continued, "we must devise a way for you to be here at this time without disrupting the delicate web of time and history." He paused and looked at them with a steeliness in his gaze that Hermione had only seen on very rare occasions. "Do each of you truly believe that you can interact with the denizens of this school without divulging your knowledge of the future?"  
  
"You'll let us interact with the other students?" Hermione asked, unable to keep a twinge of hopefulness out of her voice. The danger of altering the flow of history was very real, she knew, but the chance to speak with James Potter and his friends was a tantalizing prospect.  
  
"I do so with reservations, Miss Granger. Perhaps if I knew you would be able to return to your rightful place in time within hours, even days, I would keep you sequestered. Unfortunately, there are no guarantees in this matter, and I feel it best to provide you with as normal a life here as possible, in case you must remain here for an extended period of time."  
  
"Yes, sir," Hermione said. "And we will exercise discretion, Professor, I promise. Neither Ron or I wish to cause problems."  
  
"Of course." Dumbledore stood and motioned for Hermione and Ron to do the same. "Tonight, you will sleep in rooms separate from the dormitories. Tomorrow I will introduce you to the school as transfer students from Beaxbatons, and you will not do or say anything to dispute this statement."  
  
"Will we have to be Sorted?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Certainly. Plain robes will await you in your rooms. You will be allowed to don your Gryffindor robes once you are placed in that house properly."  
  
Hermione did not ask what would happen if they were Sorted into different houses; a vision of being named a Slytherin entered her mind and she quickly shied away from the idea.  
  
Dumbledore led them to the seventh floor. Hermione recognized the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy at once and knew he was bringing them to the Room of Requirement.  
  
"I am positive you will find adequate sleeping quarters beyond this door," he said, brushing a hand over the wall, which suddenly developed hinges and a handle. "Miss Granger, you shall be on the left, Mr. Weasley on the right. Please come down to the Great Hall first thing for breakfast and your Sorting."  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. "It means a lot to me that you believe us. I hope to be able to tell you so in the future."  
  
"You know, Miss Granger, I must confess that I am an excellent judge of character."  
  
Dumbledore smiled and strolled down the corridor and out of sight.  
  
Hermione pulled the door open, and found that the Room of Requirement looked quite different than it had when she last saw it. A small, comfortable common room awaited them. Doors on opposite walls led to their separate bedrooms.  
  
Ron entered and sat heavily on the plush sofa. Hermione followed and sat beside him. He had barely spoken since they first encountered Dumbledore, and though Hermione was certainly not altogether pleased with her friend, she did not like seeing him so miserably racked with guilt.  
  
"Ron, everything will be all right," she said, reaching to pat him consolingly on the shoulder.  
  
"Not even Dumbledore can send us back," Ron muttered, obviously shaken by this news. "We could be stuck here forever. All because of me."  
  
"You made a mistake. It happens."  
  
Ron looked over at her.  
  
"Of course it was a rather large mistake. And, yes, there is a possibility that we will never get back to our lives in the future. We may never see our families or friends again, and there is a distinct chance that we may inalterably change the course of history..."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione. I feel loads better now." He stood and slunk towards his bedroom. Hermione intercepted him at the door.  
  
"Ron, what I am trying to say is, we can get through this. We have survived worse."  
  
"Have we? I may have ruined your life, Mione," he said pitifully. "I would understand if you hated me."  
  
"I do not hate you," she asserted. "I would very much like to strangle you sometimes, now being a primary example, but I would never hate you."  
  
But Ron would not be consoled by words, and so Hermione heaved a great sigh and embraced him tightly.  
  
"Everything will be all right," she said again. "Harry will get us back. He has never let us down before, has he?"  
  
"I suppose not," he said, his voice a notch more cheerful than it was a moment before, and so Hermione drew back. She kissed him on the cheek before she hurried to bed, and, oddly enough, Ron found that he suddenly felt worlds better.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry awoke in the library, his face plastered to the pages of 'Clumsy Clockwork: When Time Travel Becomes Troublesome.' A long night amid the shelves of the Hogwarts book collection had offered him little comfort; most of the texts he consulted offered little more than a litany of terrible stories where wizards became lost in time, and the means to bring them back were more complicated than he imagined. He did all right with spells, generally speaking, but it was Hermione he needed if he was going to tackle matters this in depth.  
  
The most logical course of action, Harry decided, as he rose from his seat and gathered the books spread across the table, would be to find another Time Turner. He could then go back to the moment when Ron had been toying with the original, and stop him from ever getting hold of it in the first place.  
  
But how? As he walked back to the dormitories for a change of clothes, Harry found himself at a loss. Where could he find a Time Turner? It was not as if they were sold in the stores of Hogsmeade.  
  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts is canceled," Neville announced when Harry entered the common room. "You know. With Dumbledore gone and all."  
  
Harry nodded, his mind wandering back to the other problem gnawing away at his insides. He had almost forgotten what Lupin said about the growing threat of Voldemort, and the Order's increased actions against the Dark Lord.  
  
He should have suspected it, he thought, running his hands through his hair as he mounted the stairs to the dorms. When they had returned to Hogwarts this year to find that Dumbledore would be teaching the O.W.L and N.E.W.T level Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry had been tremendously pleased, and with good reason. Their last Dark Arts Professor had been overwhelmingly useless, and now more than ever they needed those skills.   
  
Now Harry wondered, had Dumbledore had secondary motives? Had he been trying to train his sixth and seventh year students to protect themselves in the event of his absence? Had he known these days were rapidly approaching?  
  
His head spinning, he sat on his bed, wondering what to do next. With the majority of the Professors gone and his friends missing, he felt so alone he could hardly stand it. For the first time in a long while, the loss of Sirius burned painfully in his chest, and Harry felt hot tears suddenly prickling at the back of his eyes.  
  
The door to the dormitory swung open and Harry swept a quick hand over his eyes. He looked to see who had entered and got to his feet in shock.  
  
"Professor Lupin!"  
  
Remus Lupin stood in the doorway, looking even more tired and worn than usual, his lined face pallid. He offered Harry a weak smile. "Hello."  
  
"What are you doing here?" he exclaimed. "I thought you were doing something for the Order!"  
  
Lupin did not respond. It was then that Harry noticed that Tonks was not with him.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione and Ron walked awkwardly into the Great Hall the following morning, all too aware of the eyes that turned toward them as they approached the staff table.   
  
"Welcome," Dumbledore said, standing, a gentle smile peaking out of his long beard. "You may wait right there. This will only take a moment."  
  
Hermione hoped so; the students had fallen silent as soon as Dumbledore arose from his chair and were now staring up at them. The whispers were flowing through the Hall like a wave, and Hermione noticed several students pointing up at her and Ron, who had turned tomato red at her side.  
  
"I beg a moment of your attention, please," Dumbledore announced, and the whispering immediately ceased. "We have some new students joining our Hogwarts family this morning. I ask you all to welcome with open arms, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, transfer students from Beaxbatons."  
  
The students continued to stare. Ron bounced impatiently on his heels, but Hermione was too preoccupied to feel embarrassed. Her attention was now focused on the Gryffindor table, where James and Sirius sat, along with two young men Hermione recognized as Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Lupin wore a Prefect badge on his chest, and, of the four, was paying the most attention to Dumbledore. James and Sirius were whispering back and forth, and Pettigrew was clearly attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation.  
  
"And now, as is Hogwarts tradition, our two new students will now be Sorted."  
  
A side door opened and Professor McGonagall entered, bearing with her the Sorting Hat and a small stool. McGonagall looked almost as Hermione knew her, and though her hair was less gray and her face less lined, she retained her intimidating presence. Hermione begin to feel nervous again, aware of the eyes on her, fearing what the Sorting Hat would say. What if she wasn't placed in Gryffindor, and, worse still, what if she and Ron were separated? She did not think she could handle being away from him.  
  
Professor McGonagall beckoned her forward. "Hermione Granger, if you please."  
  
Hermione glanced at Ron, who appeared terrified, and walked over to the stool. She sat, trembling, as McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop her head.  
  
"Odd..." a voice sounded in her ears. "You remember being here before, and yet I have never sat on your particular head. Something strange is afoot, but I suppose that is not of my concern."  
  
Oh please, hurry up, Hermione thought, as hours and hours seemed to pass, and the students continued to stare.  
  
"No, my concern," the Hat continued, "is where you belong while you are here. You have a sharp mind, I see, very sharp indeed. But it is your courage that is flourishing now."  
  
Not enough, she thought bitterly, her knees knocking together with fright.  
  
"I say...GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The shouted exclamation produced cheers from the Gryffindor table, and Hermione was relieved, though only for a moment. She left Ron standing alone at the front of the room and approached the Gryffindors, who were hurrying to make room for her.  
  
During that short stroll from the stool to the table, Hermione found herself in quite a mental tug of war, silently asking herself if she dared sit by James Potter and his friends. She wanted to, very much so, but she was unsure if it was truly a good idea.  
  
She finally decided not to chance it and sat several places down from the group. She smiled politely as those around her offered introductions, and then turned to watch Ron be Sorted.  
  
Hermione crossed her fingers under the table as Ron sat there, the Sorting Hat falling almost over his eyes, for what seemed quite a long time. Finally, the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Hermione grinned wildly and clapped harder than the rest. Ron hurried to sit beside her.  
  
"Relieved?" she whispered.  
  
"You have no idea," Ron replied. He quickly helped himself to a heaping plateful of scrabbled eggs and toast. "With everything that's gone on, I forgot how hungry I was. You want anything, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione nodded, though as Ron began to spoon eggs and sausage onto her plate, she discovered something that caused her appetite to rapidly wane.  
  
Seated directly across from her was a pretty girl with lush red hair. She was reading a copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells Grade 5,' and Hermione would not have recognized her had she not glanced up from the pages to briefly meet her eyes.  
  
The eyes...shaped like almonds and so brilliant green...Hermione knew them at once.   
  
"Hi," the girl said, when she noticed Hermione staring, "Hermione and Ron, right? I'm Lily Evans." 


	4. Part Four

A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ron dropped his fork with a loud clatter. His eyes were wide and his mouth agape, and from the strange, gurgling sounds he was making, Hermione suspected he was attempting to speak. She could hear the bubbles of speech in his throat, and it sounded very much like he was trying to speak about Harry.  
  
Hermione grabbed his knee and squeezed.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Lily asked.  
  
"Say yes," Hermione whispered to Ron.  
  
"Yes," Ron repeated as Hermione squeezed even tighter. "Yes, just got a bit of a headache from the flight. Broom-lag, you know." He then addressed Hermione out of the side of his mouth. "Let up, will you?"  
  
"Do you promise not to say anything stupid?" she hissed.  
  
Ron hissed back at her, but his voice was so low Hermione could barely hear him. though she did draw her hand back. Lily was now watching them with a politely puzzled gaze.  
  
"So you two are from Beauxbatons?" Lily asked.  
  
"Yeah, that's right," Ron said sulkily, rubbing his knee.  
  
"And how did you happen to end up there? Neither of you sound French, and that's where Beauxbatons is, isn't it?"  
  
Hermione and Ron exchanged a panicked look; Dumbledore had given them no instructions on how to answer these sort of questions. Ron quickly shoved a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, leaving Hermione to answer for the both of them.  
  
"Our parents work for the Ministry," she lied hastily. "In the Department for International Magical Cooperation. They often work abroad, and so we had to begin our schooling in Europe." She looked helplessly at Ron, hoping her story made sense. "Right?"  
  
"Yeah, right," Ron agreed.  
  
Lily shrugged pleasantly. "Oh, I don't know too much about the Ministry. My parents are Muggles, you see, so I only know what I learned here."  
  
Hermione almost exclaimed, "Me too!" but managed to hold her tongue. It was striking her, however, that she was quite like Lily; the only witch in a family of Muggles, prone to burying her nose in a book at mealtimes.  
  
"Well, I must be off," Lily said, gathering her things and shouldering a bag that looked much to heavy. "Enjoy your first day."  
  
As Lily walked past, James Potter swiveled in his chair, his hands hastening to ruffle his hair. "Catch up with you later, Evans?" he asked.  
  
"Bugger off, Potter," Lily replied, not even slowing to glance at him as she swept by. James blushed while Sirius and Lupin begin to snigger.  
  
"Bugger off, then," Sirius trilled. "Ah, Potter, I think she may be smitten."  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" Hermione mused, shaking her head in disbelief, "Just look at them."  
  
But Ron was staring after Lily with a dreamy sort of look in his eyes.  
  
"She's...brilliant," he finally sighed.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "She's also Harry's mother, Ron."  
  
"Not yet, she isn't. Right now she's just..." Ron sighed again and squirmed in his seat. "Brilliant."  
  
"Oh, don't be vulgar," Hermione snapped. "How would you like it if Harry looked at your mother like that?"  
  
Ron grimaced and pushed his plate aside. "And there goes my appetite."  
  
A firm hand clasped Hermione on the shoulder. She looked up to see Professor McGonagall towering over them.  
  
"A word in my office, if you please," she said.   
  
Hermione and Ron rose to their feet and made to follow her. Hermione hesitated a bit as they passed James, Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew, her eyes chancing to glance over at them.  
  
Sirius looked up at her, and Hermione felt an odd sort of lurch in her stomach as she stared into his black eyes, like she was in an elevator traveling much too fast.  
  
It took a great deal of willpower, Hermione found, to tear herself away from his gaze and move onward after Ron and McGonagall.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry was straining to be patient as he sat across from Lupin. They were seated in Dumbledore's office; Lupin had decided it would be the best place for an undisturbed conversation. How Lupin knew the password, Harry did not know, though he was dying to ask if his old professor had been in contact with Dumbledore overnight.  
  
Lupin was sipping a cup of tea and rubbing his eyes. The sleeves of his robes drooped, and Harry noticed several violent, vivid red gashes on his forearms.  
  
"Sorry, Harry," Lupin said after draining the last of his tea. "I haven't meant to keep you in suspense. It's just been a very long night."  
  
"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked, the question bursting forth as if it could not stand to be left unsaid for another moment.  
  
"She's in St. Mungo's Hospital. Now stay calm," Lupin said, noticing the flash of concern that swept over Harry's face. "She'll be all right. She was hit with quite a strong series of stunning spells last night, but the Healers should be able to set her right in no time."  
  
There was a hint of falseness in his voice that Harry did not wish to explore. "I suppose I should be pleased she isn't worse off?"  
  
Lupin nodded. "I'm afraid so. Last night was difficult."  
  
He went silent again, staring out one of the tall windows that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds. All around them, headmasters and headmistresses of years past snored in their frames. Harry noticed that Phineas Nigellus, Sirius's great-great grandfather, was absent from his painting; Harry wondered idly if he was currently occupying his other portrait at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.  
  
A thousand questions swarmed his mind, but Harry was unsure if he really wanted the answers to any of them. He wanted to be playing Exploding Snap in the common room with Ron and Hermione, wondering aloud as to what was happening beyond the walls of Hogwarts. He did not want to be here, dreading what news Lupin would deliver next.  
  
"Harry, there is a lot I believe you deserve to know that we have lately been hesitant to share with you. Dumbledore wants you informed, I know, but even more than that he wants you focused. He has told me that your independent Divination project is little more than a ruse."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"But he has not told me what you are truly studying, and if he has asked you to keep it a secret, I respect that. But it must be important, if you are unable to speak of it, and I don't want you distracted from whatever tasks Dumbledore has given you."  
  
"But how could I not be distracted?"  
  
"Exactly," Lupin concurred. "With Ron and Hermione somewhere in the past, your mind is, understandably, already elsewhere, and so Dumbledore feels that you might as well know all there is to know."  
  
"So he sent you? Have you heard from him?"  
  
Lupin nodded. "I received an owl from him last night. He wants me to tell you of the specific matters concerning the Order at present. He is also, I am relieved to say, having me stay at Hogwarts until he is able to return."  
  
"So you can help me get Ron and Hermione back!"  
  
Lupin offered the ghost of a smile. "I will do what I can, and you will be pleased to know that Professor McGonagall is also working on the matter."  
  
Harry was so relieved to hear those words that he felt ready to deal with whatever Lupin had to say. He leaned forward in his seat and waited.  
  
"To begin, Harry, I must inform you that Tonks is not the only member of the Order in the hospital. Charlie Weasley has been there for some time."  
  
Harry frowned. "What happened to him? Was there an accident with the dragons?"  
  
"Unfortunately not," Lupin said. "There was an...an incident almost two weeks ago. Charlie..." He seemed to choke on the next several words. "He had an encounter with Percy Weasley. You know that Percy has not spoken to his parents for several months now, and Charlie was there to try to talk some sense into him. Make him see the error of his ways."  
  
Lupin shook his head. "It didn't go well. They fought, first with words, but then with wands. In the end, Harry, Percy used the Cruciatus Curse on Charlie."  
  
Harry gasped. "He...how could...how bad?"  
  
"It isn't good, Harry. The Healers are doing what they can, but there is a chance that Charlie may never recover."  
  
The words hung in the air. Harry could not believe his ears. Percy had changed since Harry had first met him, but had he really changed that much? How could he resort to using an Unforgivable Curse on his own flesh and blood? He was almost glad that Ron was not around to hear this.  
  
"If there is any good news," Lupin continued, "it is that Dumbledore does not believe Percy knew what he was doing. He believes the boy to be under the Imperius Curse."  
  
"Is there any way to prove that?"  
  
"The Order has always relied on Veritaserum to deal with such questions. But in order for proper administration of the potion and thorough interrogation, we had to find Percy. "  
  
Harry was beginning to put the pieces of this puzzle together. "And that's what you were doing last night, isn't it?"  
  
Lupin nodded grimly. "We tried to intercept him as he arrived at his flat. As it turns out, he was under the watch of several people I believe may be working for Voldemort. Tonks was stunned, and we were forced to flee."  
  
"So Percy got away and..."  
  
"We still do not know," Lupin finished. "If Dumbledore thinks Percy is under the Imperius Curse, Harry, than I am inclined to believe so, but at times like these it is hard to know. Some people will do anything for power."  
  
"Are the other Weasleys okay?"  
  
"They're shaken by the news, certainly, but I think they are stronger than we imagine. Ginny is still here, yes?"  
  
Harry felt a flash of pain. He had not yet told Ginny about Ron's blunder with the Time Turner, and he dreaded doing so, almost as much as he dreaded her finding out what Lupin had just told him.  
  
"Yes, she is," Harry answered after a moment. "Will you tell her?"  
  
"I think she has the right to know, but I tell you, Harry, I do not look forward to doing so."  
  
Harry swallowed. A lump had developed in his throat. "What else?"  
  
"We have begun working with the shopkeepers at Diagon Alley. Many of the attacks by Death Eaters have taken place there. They must find it hard to resist; all those wizards crowded together. We are arming the shop owners, training them to protect themselves. Fred and George Weasley are leading the way."  
  
Harry found it remarkable that Fred and George were working on something so serious, but he was quite proud that they were doing so.  
  
"The store owners in Hogsmeade are also receiving help from the Order. We would not be surprised if that was where the next wave of attacks were. Our work in the Ministry is continuing, but for every mind we win, Voldemort seems to win two." There was a pregnant pause. "I fear he will grow even stronger now than he ever was before."  
  
Harry did not know what to say to this. He looked over at the perch when Fawkes, the beautiful phoenix Dumbledore kept as a pet, usually stood, but the bird was not there. He wished he could hear Fawkes sing his enchanting song right now...  
  
A strange look suddenly came over Lupin. He made an odd sound and stood, shaking his head as if confused. Harry watched him pace the length of the office several times.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
"It cannot be," Lupin muttered. "How very odd."  
  
"What?" Harry pressed. "What's odd?"  
  
Lupin looked down at Harry with something akin to amazement in his eyes. "I knew Ron and Hermione," he said.  
  
Harry blinked, trying to figure out what to make of such a statement, wondering if perhaps Lupin was suddenly losing his mind. "How so?"  
  
"I meet them when I was young...fifteen to be exact...I can remember it perfectly." He was speaking slowly, as if the memories were all coming back at once, released from some forgotten vault in his mind. "They came to Hogwarts at the start of my fifth year. Dumbledore introduced them to the school. How..."  
  
And then he stopped pacing and snapped his fingers. "That's it, Harry! Don't you see?"  
  
Harry most certainly did not see; in fact he was more confused than ever. Lupin continued undaunted.  
  
"It's the Time Turner, Harry. It's sent Ron and Hermione back to the time when I was a student here." Lupin smiled. "We found them. Harry."  
  
* * *  
  
"Can you believe this?" Hermione exclaimed, storming out of McGonagall's office, little patches of pink appearing on her cheeks. "I never would have thought, in a million years, that McGonagall would be so unfair!"  
  
Ron was struggling to keep up with her long, angry strides, his eyes scanning the course schedule McGonagall had assigned the pair of them. "It could be worse, Mione. I mean, at least this way, homework will be a snap."  
  
Hermione ignored him. "All because she doesn't have a record of our O.W.L scores! It is just so utterly, terribly undignified that she is making us..." Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "Repeat the fifth year."  
  
She shuddered as if the concept itself made her ill. Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione pressed on.  
  
"Do you know how many O.W.L.s I got?"  
  
"Ten," Ron recited dully.  
  
"Ten! Exactly! And yet, here I am, repeating the fifth year like some common...some common...troll!"  
  
With a last incensed sigh, Hermione rounded on Ron, looking positively disgusted. "What class have we got first?"  
  
Ron hesitated. "Divination."  
  
"Divination! Oh, I thought I was through with that drivel!"  
  
"At least Professor Trelawney doesn't work here yet," Ron offered brightly. "It might actually be worthwhile, Mione. You might even learn something."  
  
Hermione seemed momentarily placated by the prospect, though her frown persisted as Ron led her to the classroom identified on their schedules.   
  
In a stark contrast to the North Tower where Professor Trelawney held her Divination classes, the fifth floor classroom of this past was large and well lit, with no heavily perfumed fires to cloud their minds. Crystal balls were lined neatly on the shelves, though even from a distance Hermione could see that they were coated in a considerable layer of dust.  
  
Hermione and Ron were among the last students to enter. Most of the seats were already taken; Hermione noticed a pair of empty desks near the seats occupied by James and his friends. She led Ron over with a nod.  
  
"Are you sure?" Ron whispered.  
  
Hermione did not answer as she sat down alongside Lupin, who appraised her with a polite smile as he situated parchment and a quill on his desk. Ron took the desk beside her, his eyes fixated on James and Sirius, who sat in front of them, talking energetically back and forth. Hermione noted that their school bags were near empty; neither had bothered to so much as pack a book in preparation for their lessons.  
  
"I'm telling you, Potter, she'd rather kiss the giant squid than go into Hogsmeade with the likes of you," Sirius was saying, tilting his chair back on its hind legs, looking tremendously comfortable in his own skin. "And really, mate, can you blame her?"  
  
James glared at Sirius, though his lips were twitching into a smile, and beside Hermione, Lupin chuckled under his breath.  
  
"Nah, there's something strange about that girl," James said.  
  
"Yes, that must be it," Sirius quipped. "Alert the Aurors, for Lily Evans is undoubtedly under some horrible dark spell. Don't you think, Moony?  
  
Lupin looked up with a grin. "Quite. I cannot think of another reason that she would not be stricken by your charms, Potter."  
  
Ron failed to suppress a snort of laughter. James, Sirius, and Lupin all turned to observe him, suddenly very aware that he was eavesdropping.  
  
"Or maybe she's keen on someone else," Sirius suggested, his eyes going over Ron with a glint of maliciousness. "I think I saw her talking to Red over here at breakfast."  
  
Ron blushed so deeply that Hermione suspected his new nickname was now quite sure to stick. He seemed deprived of his voice, and so Hermione said, in what she hoped was a cool tone, "I don't think you need to worry about Ron."  
  
Ron looked at her reproachfully, as if insulted by the insinuation that he was not a threat for Lily's affections.  
  
Sirius's eyes flicked over to Hermione, who again felt the odd fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She suddenly noticed that several of the girls seated around them, many of whom were quite gorgeous, were gazing at Sirius like he was a glass of water and they were dying of thirst.  
  
And, though she was ashamed of herself for even thinking so, Hermione could understand why. He was easy on the eyes.  
  
"So what's your name, new girl?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Hermione," Lupin answered, and Ron and Hermione both jumped, surprised by his confident interjection. "You would know that, Sirius, if you had been listening to Dumbledore at breakfast."  
  
Lupin smiled at Hermione once more; now that she had an opportunity to really look at him, she saw how tired he looked. She remembered that it had been a full moon last night and wondered if he had slept at all.  
  
"We were listening, weren't we, Potter?" Sirius said. "Oh, no, I guess you weren't. You were too busy gawking at Evans, as I recall."  
  
"Could we drop this subject, please?" James asked. "Let Red have her, for all I care."  
  
Sirius and Lupin both smiled and rolled their eyes, as if this were an assertion they heard often and did not in the least believe.  
  
"My name's Remus," Lupin said, and Hermione and Ron did their best to look like this was news. "These two gits are James and Sirius."  
  
"Hey, who are you calling a git, Moony?"  
  
The door swung open and a tall, elderly witch entered the room. Sirius sent Hermione one last look before turning in his seat; his raised eyebrow and half smile made her jump in an entirely unfamiliar way. She was so struck by his energy and his vigor...  
  
And then, with a realization that sucked the air from her lungs, she remembered that this young, attractive boy in front of her was bound to suffer unimaginably in the coming years. He would lose his best friend to death, another to the service of Voldemort, and then spend all those years in Azkaban...  
  
Hermione felt like she was about to spill out of her seat. She was tremendously grateful when the witch at the front of the room rapped her knuckles on the desk.  
  
"All right, come to order," she said. "I want to continue our discussion on dream interpretation."  
  
Several of the students, Lupin included, obligingly lugged heavy textbooks from their bags. James, however, pulled a torn piece of parchment from his and begin to doodle absently. Sirius merely yawned and leaned even further back in his chair.  
  
The witch cleared her throat impatiently, reminding Hermione forcibly of Dolores Umbridge. "Please turn to page 118."  
  
The rustle of turning pages filled the room. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and Ron merely shrugged, clearly unconcerned about their lack of textbooks. He yawned, quite like Sirius just had, and leaned back in his own seat.  
  
"Here," Lupin whispered, sliding his book toward her. "We can share. Not that it'll matter much. Old Professor Corner here usually just rambles on for most of the hour."  
  
"I see. Does Professor Corner claim to...er...See?"  
  
"Of course. Right nonsense, if you ask me," Lupin said, though he started to take notes the moment Professor Corner begin speaking, almost as if by compulsion.  
  
"Now we all know that wolves represent coming hardships. Can anyone elaborate on the specific hardships wolves, particularly werewolves, represent?"  
  
A few lazy hands were raised. At the mention of werewolves, James and Sirius sniggered to themselves, and Hermione and Ron could not help but glance over at Lupin, who was resolutely avoiding looking at anything other than the parchment before him.  
  
"Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, if something is entertaining you, could you perhaps share it with the class?" Professor Corner snapped.  
  
"No thanks, Professor," Sirius replied, with that dangerous smile of his. Several of the girls gazing fondly at him actually let out little sighs of admiration.  
  
Professor Corner glared at James and Sirius for a moment before shifting her eyes to Hermione and Ron.   
  
"New students, eh?" she said, consulting a piece of parchment resting on her desk with knitted brows. "Yes, Dumbledore mentioned this. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, correct?"  
  
Hermione and Ron nodded. Professor Corner continued to stare at them.  
  
"I sense a great deal of extrasensory vibration around the both of you," she said, in the same brisk tone she had been using since class begin. Hermione was perplexed; it was one thing to hear Professor Trelawney say something so ludicrous in her wispy, ethereal tones, but quite another to hear the sentence delivered with such no nonsense bluster.  
  
"Tell me," Professor Corner continued. "Do either of you find yourself possessed of knowledge of the future?"  
  
All eyes turned to them. Sirius stared hard at Hermione and it again hit her: in her world Sirius no longer existed. He was dead. A sharp moan rose up out of her.  
  
Ron sighed. "You have no idea." 


	5. Part Five

A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ginny was shaking in the chair beside him, huge, silent tears falling down her freckled cheeks. Harry felt like he should reach over and comfort her somehow, but he felt strangely uncomfortable doing so with Lupin watching, and so he occupied himself by staring at a stain on the rug beneath his feet.  
  
Lupin, having told Ginny the batch of bad news concerning her brothers, had resuming pacing, which Harry could not help but think very irritating. He again wished that he had lessons to distract him, but when he had gone to fetch Ginny from the common room he had received word that Nearly Headless Nick would be teaching Transfiguration, and though he quite liked the ghost, it seemed rather a waste to toil away the hours learning Transfiguration from a being that could not technically Transfigure anything.  
  
So he sat, watching Ginny cry and Lupin pace, feeling terribly helpless, when all of a sudden a burst of green flame erupted in the fireplace, billowing smoke and ashes into the air. Professor McGonagall, or rather her head, stared up at them from upon the logs.  
  
"Yes, Dumbledore said you would be here," she said, her tight bun somewhat disheveled from her spin in the Floo powder.  
  
Lupin knelt before the fire. "What have you found, Minerva?"  
  
"Not a great deal," she said, and Harry felt his heart sink. "I have found one spell, but it is complex, and it will take awhile to work out the kinks."  
  
"How long?" Lupin asked.  
  
McGonagall sighed. "Two weeks. Perhaps more."  
  
"Two weeks!" Harry and Ginny shouted together. They knelt down alongside Lupin and attempted to protest. "But, Professor, we can't wait two weeks!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"You may well have to, Potter," she replied sternly.  
  
"Actually, Minerva, I think Harry is right," Lupin said. "I think we may have located Ron and Hermione..."  
  
He explained his sudden onslaught of fresh memories regarding the pair, and as she listened McGonagall begin to look characteristically sour, pursing her lips so tightly that her whole face went white.  
  
"You see the problem, then," Lupin concluded. "Ron and Hermione are interacting not only with myself, Minerva, but with James, Lily, Sirius, Peter Pettigrew..."  
  
Lupin trailed off meaningfully, but if McGonagall responded right away, Harry did not hear her. A rush of envy had suddenly filled his stomach.  
  
Why Ron and Hermione? he thought. James and Lily were his parents and Sirius his godfather. He should be the one there with them, not Ron and Hermione, who both had perfectly lovely families of their own. Now that he had a moment to think about it, Harry realized he was actually quite bitter at the unfairness of it all.  
  
"Hermione is a clever girl," McGonagall was saying. "She knows how time travel works. There is no way she would purposefully jeopardize history by saying or doing something foolish."  
  
"Do you think this is about cleverness?" Lupin asked. "I see it more a problem of love and loyalty than cleverness. If either Hermione or Ron thought they could save the Potters and give Harry his parents back..."  
  
"Or prevent what happened to Sirius," Ginny added.  
  
There was an uneasy silence. Lupin and McGonagall wore matching frowns.  
  
"We must simply hope that Hermione and Ron will not succumb to that temptation," McGonagall said.  
  
"But..." Harry begin. He stopped talking as soon as the others turned to look at him, knowing what they were going to say and not wanting a lecture. True, you were not supposed to change the past, but if his best friends could somehow save his parents and Sirius...the laden bitterness was replaced by a wriggling sense of hope.  
  
"Are you listening?" Ginny asked.   
  
"No," he admitted.   
  
McGonagall rolled her eyes. "No, of course not, Potter, or you perhaps would have answered my question. Where did Ron and Hermione get the Time Turner?"  
  
"Malfoy," Harry replied, unable to suppress a grin, so pleased was he to rat out Draco to McGonagall.  
  
"I see. I will certainly be speaking to Dumbledore about that," she sneered. "Then I must be off. I will begin work on the Temporal Charm. I can summon Flitwick to assist. In the meanwhile, you stay at the castle, Remus, and you two," she turned her head toward Harry and Ginny, "watch yourselves. And stop skiving off lessons!"  
  
Pop. McGonagall disappeared. Lupin stood.  
  
"Temporal Charm?" Harry asked.  
  
"A spell that, when done right, folds time," Lupin answered. "If we can implement it correctly, we should be able to reach back in time and retrieve Ron and Hermione. The problem, of course, is doing it right."  
  
He seemed rather concerned about the matter, but Harry did not wish to push for the reasons why, and neither, it seemed, did Ginny. If anything, Harry was relieved when it was time to head to the Great Hall for lunch, so tired was he of hearing bad news.  
  
Ginny walked alongside him down the staircase. She was still sniffling quite pitifully, and in her emotion she neglected to jump the trick step that Neville always forgot about; her leg sunk into it with a nasty creak.  
  
"Ouch," she said.  
  
"Here you go." Harry seized her under the arms and lifted her carefully out of the step. "Right as rain."  
  
But things were not all right; Ginny was crying openly again. She soon flung herself forward, burying her face in Harry's robes and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.  
  
"I'm just so worried!" she sobbed. "Charlie...Ron...Percy..."  
  
Harry was feeling horrified; he never knew what to do when girls acted like this. He finally did the only thing that seemed to make sense and hugged her back.  
  
It was odd. Even though she was crying, and even though they were standing in plain view of the entire school, it felt okay holding her like this. It was quite like she fit.  
  
Ginny ducked away a moment later, not looking back at Harry as she hurried into the Great Hall, where he distinctly saw her meet up with Dean Thomas.  
  
Oh, a dull inner voice reminded him. Ginny goes out with Dean Thomas.   
  
Not that it bothered him. Why would it? He had a thousand more important things to think about at the moment. Why should he spend a single second worrying about Ginny Weasley?  
  
He found himself wandering back to the dormitory, which was quite deserted at the dinner hour. He crouched down beside his bed and retrieved his Pensieve; Dumbledore had provided him one at the beginning of the year in an attempt to expedite his progress in Occlumency.   
  
Harry most often used the device to store the most disturbing thoughts swirling in his mind; those of the murder he knew his life was leading to. Now, however, he extracted the sudden rush of thoughts about Ginny. Perhaps Dumbledore did not intend him to use the Pensieve to relieve his frustrations with girls, but Harry thought it too much of a convenience to overlook.  
  
He took a moment to examine the thoughts swirling around the stone basin. A Dark Lord to conquer, a murder to either commit or suffer, friends to save, and girls to deal with, all at the same time?  
  
Harry sighed. "Bloody hell."  
  
* * *  
  
The remainder of Divination passed uneventfully, though Professor Corner seemed to think that Hermione and Ron should be able to answer any question posed to them, no matter how obscure. Though Ron was stumped, Hermione was generally able to fumble for the correct answer, and by the end of the hour had decided that Divination was much more tolerable when not held in the stifling heat of the North Tower.  
  
After Professor Corner dismissed them, Hermione insisted on going straight to Transfiguration, as she wanted to speak to Professor McGonagall about getting textbooks.  
  
"What does it matter, Mione?" Ron sighed. "We already know everything!"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Ron puffed himself up proudly. "Yeah."  
  
"Tell me then, Ron, the ingredients of Confusing Concoction?"  
  
Ron fumbled for a moment before deflating with a resigned shrug. Hermione shook her head. "Exactly."  
  
The door to the Transfiguration classroom was slightly ajar; even from a slight distance they could hear the familiar sound of McGonagall shouting at a student.  
  
"...no idea what you could possibly be thinking!"  
  
Hermione and Ron paused, exchanged a look, and then leaned in to eavesdrop.  
  
"That sort of behavior is absolutely forbidden in this school and if I ever see so much as a hint of it in the future, young man, I will personally escort you to the train home!"  
  
Hermione and Ron stepped back as the door burst open and a sallow young man emerged from the classroom. He glared at them from behind a curtain of dark hair.  
  
"Bugger off," the boy snarled, roughly slamming into Ron as he passed. Hermione gapped after him while Ron massaged his shoulder.  
  
"Do you know who that was?" Hermione breathed.  
  
"Some greasy old prat, is who," Ron answered. "A bit like..."  
  
He was interrupted by an explosion of noise down the hall. A burst of red sparks soared into the air as a scuffle broke out between a group of students.  
  
McGonagall came flying out of the classroom. "Potter! Snape!" she fumed, easily breaking through the swarm of onlookers surrounding the dueling students.  
  
"Snape?" Ron repeated. "That was Snape?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione replied. "I wonder what he did to earn that verbal lashing from McGonagall."  
  
"Dunno," Ron shrugged as they strolled into the classroom. "But you know what Sirius told Harry last year. Snape was always up to his eyeballs in Dark Arts."  
  
Hermione tried to give Ron a sharp kick to shut him up, but it was too late, and the sentence was already out of his mouth before he realized that Lily and Pettigrew were sitting in the classroom, staring up at them.  
  
"Er...hi!" Hermione said brightly, hoping that, somehow, the pair had not heard what Ron said.  
  
Lily smiled, though Hermione saw the suspicion in her eyes as she watched them take their seats, and she cast around for something to say to distract from the odd statement hanging in the air.  
  
She settled on commenting on the textbooks both Lily and Pettigrew were tucking away into their school bags. "You take Arithmancy?" she asked.   
  
"Oh, yes, and I just adore it," Lily said, though her suspicion still lingered.   
  
"Me too," Hermione said. "Or at least I did, when I took it at Beauxbatons. Unfortunately the class here was full this year. We got stuck in Divination."  
  
"Rubbish," Lily said.  
  
"I think I m-may transfer courses," Pettigrew interjected in his squeaky, wobbling voice. "Arithmancy is just s-so difficult."  
  
"I told you I would tutor you, Peter," Lily said kindly. "Really, it isn't any trouble."  
  
Pettigrew stared at Lily with his watery eyes. Hermione did not like the way he looked at her; if her better judgment did not propel her to hold her tongue, she most certainly would have shouted at Pettigrew to leave Lily alone, once and for all.  
  
A flood of students suddenly entered the classroom, all chattering excitedly about something, looking frequently over their shoulders at the source of three raised voices heading their way.  
  
"I don't care who started it, Black!" McGonagall shouted, charging into the room with the bluster of an angry rhinoceros. "There is simply no excuse for jinxing another student!"  
  
Sirius and James charged in after her. James had a nasty looking welt near his left ear, but neither he nor Sirius looked the least bit frightened of McGonagall, despite her towering temper.  
  
"Snape jinxed Remus straight to the hospital wing, Professor!"  
  
"Yes, though as far as I can tell, Potter, he was aiming at you, and after what you did..."  
  
"He started it!"  
  
"...I hardly blame him. Now you two," she pointed her finger right at the steaming pair, "sit down and be quiet before I make it a round fifty points from Gryffindor!"  
  
Sirius and James threw their bags nosily to the floor and slammed their bodies into their seats. Lily rolled her eyes at the display and returned her attention to the notes she had spread out before her.  
  
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" McGonagall snapped. "Books and wands out! Granger! Weasley! Come and and get your textbooks!"  
  
Hermione and Ron hurried to the front of the room. McGonagall pointed to the small pile of spell books on her desk.  
  
"Dumbledore arranged these for you," she said brusquely. "And he sent your belongings to the Gryffindor dorms."  
  
"Belongings?" Ron repeated.  
  
"Of course, Weasley," she said, glaring at him meaningfully. "You certainly did not transfer schools without any belongings?"  
  
"Oh," Ron sputtered. "Right."  
  
He and Hermione fumbled for their books and hastened back to their desks. McGonagall waved her wand and the properties of a basic Vanishing Spell appeared on the blackboard.  
  
"Today we will work on Vanishing snails..."  
  
Sirius leaned in close to James. Hermione strained to hear as they whispered back and forth. "Are we going out again tonight?" Sirius asked.  
  
James nodded. "Yeah. Should we bring Peter?"  
  
"I suppose. The full moon is over so Moony can baby-sit him. You and I need to focus. I really think we can get it right..."  
  
"Black! Potter! If you two do not stop talking and pay attention this instant, I will not hesitate to put you both in detention for the rest of the year! NOW BE QUIET!"  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione endured suspicious glances from Lily for the rest of the evening; all through dinner and as they dressed for bed she felt Lily staring at her. Then, just as Hermione was pulling the curtains closed around her bed, Lily cleared her throat from across the room.  
  
"Hermione, I could not help but overhearing earlier," she begin, and Hermione felt her heart fall straight to her knees, "but you and Ron were talking about a friend of yours. Harry, I think you called him?"  
  
Hermione muttered noncommittally.  
  
"Who is he? How does he know Sirius?"  
  
Hermione stared up at her canopy. The four other girls in the dorm were either sleeping or studying, though their ears all seemed to prick at the mere mention of Sirius.  
  
"I...I think their parents know each other...something," Hermione answered lamely, forcing a loud and obvious yawn, hoping that Lily would think her too tired to answer straight.  
  
"I see," Lily said, her voice edged with doubt. There was a pause, and then Lily muttered, sounding genuinely sleepy, "I always like that name, Harry."  
  
Hermione relayed this to Ron over breakfast the next morning. Ron was not overtly concerned.  
  
"Maybe she suspects something, Mione," he said around a mouthful of bacon, "but what does it matter? There's no way she'll guess what's really going on. Who would ever believe it?"  
  
"Perhaps," Hermione said.   
  
"We just have to watch what we say from now on."  
  
"You mean, you need to watch what you say, Ron," she snapped, watching him pour himself another mug of coffee. There were dark circles under his eyes, and when she asked how he slept, he shook his head dramatically.  
  
"Hardly a wink," he replied. "The other boy in the dorm, Bryan or Byron or Bushie or whatever his name is, offered me a sleeping potion but I refused. Stupid of me, turns out."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Ron glanced down the table at James, Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew. "They were up half the night. They snuck out around midnight, once they thought Bushie and I were asleep. Came back a few hours later all worked up about something."  
  
"Maybe they finally accomplished their transformations," Hermione suggested.  
  
"Yeah, I think they may have. They were rather excited. I pretended to sleep for awhile but eventually..." he trailed off and went bright red.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, they, er, woke me up. Wanted to have a chat."  
  
Ron was going redder still. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "About what?"  
  
"About, er, you, actually. Wanted to know if you and I were...er...you know..."  
  
Hermione continued to stare at him. Ron was now positively crimson.  
  
"Shagging," he finished.  
  
Hermione spit a mouthful of pumpkin juice across the table.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Sirius was doing most of the questioning, though Lupin seemed pretty keen to hear the answer, come to that. I think maybe he fancies you," Ron scowled slightly. "Which..."  
  
"What did you tell them?" Hermione interrupted, mopping up the mess in front of her, glaring at Ron out of the corner of her eye. "You did tell them the truth, right?"  
  
"Course I did," Ron muttered, and though Hermione was not entirely sure she believed him, she said nothing more. She did not want to admit that she did not want Sirius thinking she was with anyone else. And Lupin? The mere notion that he would ever be interested in her was almost comical. He was her professor...or at the very least he would be.  
  
"Well, there is only one thing we can do," Hermione said, regarding James and the others, as Ron continued to glower. "I think we just need to avoid the lot of them from now on. This is just too risky."  
  
"Yeah, you're probably right," Ron agreed. "I just hope Harry hurries up getting us out of here. I'm good and ready to get back to the future, if you know what I mean."  
  
Hermione nodded, though as the hours passed and they remained, she begin to doubt whether or not Harry would be able to get them back. She was trying desperately hard not to think about it, but she had a nagging feeling that if Harry were able to rescue them, he already would have.  
  
She did not dare speak these fears to Ron. She needed him to stay calm to preserve her own sanity.  
  
As it would turn out, however, her own sanity was quite at risk anyway, as avoiding James and his friends proved impossible over the next few days. They had every class with James, Sirius, and Lupin, and Lily and Pettigrew were in nearly as many. They ran into them at meals, in the common room, in the dorms...  
  
Even more problematic was the fact that, with the notable exception of Pettigrew, Hermione liked the group a great deal, and knew Ron did as well. James and Sirius were as entertaining a duo as Fred and George, and spent nearly as much time in detention, while Lily and Lupin were both bursting with kindness and intelligence. Hermione knew she and Ron could have whiled away hours talking to the both of them, or laughing with James and Sirius, but it was much too risky, and she struggled to remain aloof.  
  
And then there were the nightmares. She was dreaming of Voldemort every night, and more than once was awakened in the early hours by Lily, who told her she was thrashing about and moaning in her sleep.  
  
"What is taking Harry so long?" Hermione hissed through clenched teeth. It had been nearly four whole days since they had traveled back in time and there was no hint that a rescue was coming.   
  
Ron had been dozing atop his History of Magic notes by the fire. "Maybe it has something to do with the professors all being gone," he mummered, not bothering to lift his head or open his eyes.  
  
"That did occur to me," Hermione sighed. "What if..."  
  
"What if what?"  
  
She dropped her voice to barely above a whisper. "What if Voldemort has made a move to take Hogwarts?"  
  
Ron bolted upright. "Dumbledore would never let that happen," he said, though he looked suddenly stricken.  
  
"No, of course not." She sighed again. "I just hope nothing bad has happened..."  
  
She stopped talking as Sirius and James entered through the portrait hole. James made a beeline for Lily, who was hidden behind a mountain of library books, and attempted futilely to distract her from her studies. Sirius, however, came straight over to Hermione and Ron.  
  
"So, Hermione," he said, plopping into the chair beside her and kicking his legs up onto the table. "Are you coming to the banquet for Dumbledore tomorrow evening?"  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Sirius did not acknowledge that Ron was there; he stared intently at Hermione with his endless black eyes.  
  
"I suppose so," she said.  
  
"Tomorrow?" Ron said. "Tomorrow is your birthday, Mione!"  
  
Hermione frowned. She had quite forgotten that fact, with the mess they were in, and the reminder made her feel sad to be here, away from the world she truly knew.  
  
"Your birthday, is it? Than you have to come," Sirius said. "I promise it'll be worthwhile."  
  
He swept his legs off the table and stood in one graceful movement, and then, right before he turned away, he winked at her.  
  
Hermione and Ron were quiet a moment. Then Ron sputtered, "Did he just...wink at you?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, her voice a bit higher than usual, as she watched Sirius join James, who had just been rebuffed once again by Lily, on the other side of the common room.  
  
"What did he mean, he would make it worthwhile?"  
  
"Dunno," she squeaked, though she was curious to know herself.  
  
Ron was scowling but Hermione hardly noticed. Her hand was beginning to shake, and so she set down her quill and shuffled her notes into a pile. "I think I'll finish my homework tomorrow," she said, her voice still dangerously squeaky.  
  
"But you never leave your homework for tomorrow, Mione," Ron said in amazement. "You always finish your homework right away."  
  
"Yes, I know, but I feel really tired." She wished she would stop squeaking. She gathered her things and started for the stairs. "Goodnight then."  
  
Her temples were beginning to pound as she entered the dormitory, which was mercifully empty at this still early hour. She flopped onto her bed.  
  
She knew, if she was brutally honest with herself, that there was a time last year when she found herself taken with Sirius. It was during that summer spent at Grimmauld Place that she developed the nagging tickles of a school girl crush. He was hopelessly reckless, and she despised him for it, but it was distantly attractive all the same.  
  
"What is it," she asked the ceiling, "that makes girls fall for the bad boy?"  
  
Hermione gave herself a good mental shake. What did it matter if she was, once upon a time, smitten with him? It was foolish and impossible then and it was foolish and impossible now.  
  
Except, and this was what made her go all squeaky, it was not impossible right now. Right now he was just another student.  
  
But then she remembered what she had said to Ron about his leering at Lily, and she knew her feelings were just as inappropriate. She would not allow herself to get swept up in the moment only to do something she would regret later on...would she?  
  
Hermione crawled beneath the covers, still fully clothed, and sighed, "Harry," she muttered, "get us out of here."  
  
* * *  
  
A dark shadow seemed to be spreading over the castle. Though students had initially been thrilled that the professors were gone, the harsh reality was quickly setting in, and Harry knew they were beginning to worry about what it meant. Something horrible must be happening, the students reasoned, to draw Dumbledore and the others away for several days.  
  
Classes were dragging; it may have been well and good for the ghosts, Madame Pomfrey, Madame Pince and Professor Sprout to do lessons with the underclassmen, but the N.E.W.T level students were suffering. Most hours were little more than glorified study halls.  
  
Lupin was in constant contact with the Order, and he filtered most of the information he was privy to unto Harry, though questions about Dumbledore were always deflected. There was little to be done from Hogwarts; even the task of returning Ron and Hermione to the present had been delegated elsewhere. In her communiquŽs with Lupin, McGonagall sounded as though she and Flitwick were making progress with the Temporal Charm, but Harry found a mysterious lack of information about the spell in the library, though he suspected he would have had more luck had he been able to access the Restricted Section.  
  
Word that Ron and Hermione were missing had begun to travel. Members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team wanted to discuss the upcoming season, and they came to Harry when they could not find Ron. Harry decided to say Ron was attending to family business, though this was a less than satisfactory answer for several of his classmates, as anything serious enough to draw Ron away from school for so long surely should have affected Ginny as well. But really, Harry thought, what else could he say?  
  
With his classes rendered inconsequential, his best friends gone, and no Quidditch strategy to learn, Harry spent much of his time focused on his work for Dumbledore.  
  
The day the Headmaster gave Harry his Pensieve, he also gave him an assignment, one that he was not to speak of with anyone. He chose to call it an independent Divination project because it sounded boring enough that no one would ask unnecessary questions about it. That would not have been the case, Harry knew, if he called it what it was, and told them that he was studying the Avada Kedavra curse with the intensity of someone who one day meant to use it.  
  
It seemed to Harry a pointless task; what hope did he have using the Killing Curse against Voldemort? Surely the most powerful dark wizard of all time would be able to deflect whatever feeble spells Harry sent his way.  
  
But Dumbledore was convinced that he should know all there was to know about the curse, and so Harry had delved headfirst into studies of how it worked.   
  
It was depressing, taxing work, but it was, at least for today, suitably distracting from everything else that was going on. Harry was in the library, reading a very tedious account of the role the Avada Kedavra curse played during the goblin rebellions of the 17th century, when Ginny came looking for him.  
  
"Professor Lupin wants to see us," she said.   
  
Harry looked up at her, feeling unnecessarily stunned by her presence, and he realized that he hadn't spoken to her since that day on the stairs. Indeed, now that he was thinking of it, his thoughts concerning that encounter were still swirling away in his Pensieve, untouched.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny jostled his shoulder. "Are you coming?"  
  
He nodded, though he really wished she had not just touched him, as suddenly his mind was filled with a fresh onslaught of thoughts he would need to deposit in the Pensieve.  
  
They walked in silence to the stone gargoyle, where Harry dully recited the password, and hopped onto the moving staircase.  
  
"I hope everything is okay," Ginny said. "Lupin seemed sort of shaken when he asked me to find you." She sighed. "I just don't think I can take much more bad news."  
  
Harry glanced over at her. When had she started to look so...mature? Last time he checked she was a mere child. Now...  
  
The staircase deposited them in front of the office door, which Harry heaved open with tremendous effort. Lupin was standing rigidly behind the desk.  
  
"You wanted to see us?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, Potter, we did."  
  
Harry spun around. Professor McGonagall was seated near the fireplace, her traveling cloak still draped over her shoulders, looking rather displeased about something.   
  
McGonagall rose to her feet with a heavy sigh. "Potter, Miss Weasley, I am afraid I have some bad news for you."  
  
Ginny let out a moan.  
  
"Charlie?" Harry croaked.  
  
"Percy, actually," McGonagall said. "Professor Snape saw him last night. At a meeting of Death Eaters."  
  
Ginny moaned again, and, whimpering, slumped against Harry as if she might collapse if left to stand on her own volition.  
  
Her voice wavering a bit, McGonagall continued, "I wish I were not the one to tell you this, but Percy received the Dark Mark from Lord Voldemort himself. While it is possible that he is under the influence of the Imperius Curse, Professor Snape does not believe that to be the case." She sighed again. "And frankly neither do I."  
  
Ginny was once again weeping on his shoulder, but this time Harry could do little but try and keep his wits about him, as his strongest instinct at the moment was to sob right along with her. 


	6. Part Six

Title: Through the Hour Glass (Part Six)  
  
A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. It should probably be noted that this chapter does contain a scene of a mild sexual nature, and though the rating remains PG-13, considered yourself warned. Or aroused. Whatever. :)  
  
Also a huge THANK YOU to all my lovely and charming reviewers. You guys are the best! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
Hermione slept through breakfast the next morning, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about Sirius in manners so unsavory that she was still blushing when she made her way to History of Magic well after the bell had sounded.  
  
Professor Binns was much too focused on his lecture to notice Hermione as she crept into class. Ron had saved her a seat at the rear of the room.  
  
"What happened?" he asked.  
  
"Overslept," Hermione muttered, spotting Sirius near a window, where he was stretched out languidly in his chair, looking bored and gorgeous. In the chair behind him James was playing with a Snitch, allowing it to soar a few inches away before snatching it out of the air. The students around him watched, captivated, while Professor Binns droned on, oblivious.  
  
"Well," Ron frowned, "Happy birthday, Mione."  
  
Hermione groaned and slumped forward onto her desk. "Oh, Ron, I hate it here. I miss Harry. I miss Ginny. I miss our lives."  
  
"I know," Ron sighed, reaching over and patting her consolingly on the back, "but I know Harry'll get us back soon. You said it, remember? He won't let us down."  
  
He smiled and Hermione promptly burst into tears and dove into his arms. Across the room, Sirius turned to watch her and Ron with a scowl, while Lily took the opportunity to point her wand at James and exclaim, "Accio Snitch!"  
  
The Snitch flew right into her outstretched hand. James rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, defeated.  
  
Hermione was still mopping her face with her sleeve when class ended, the emotion all spilling out of her before she could stop it. Ron kept one eye on her as they made their way to the greenhouses for Herbology, as if waiting to see if she would lunge at him again.  
  
"We could skive off Herbology," Ron suggested. "It's not like we'd be missing anything. They're just harvesting Bubotuber Pus."  
  
"No, I don't think so," Hermione said. "I already missed most of History of Magic. I really shouldn't skip another class."  
  
She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around to find Lupin half a step behind them.  
  
He offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, looking quite apprehensive, "but I wanted a word, Hermione, if that's all right."  
  
"Oh...of course..." She looked at Ron.  
  
"I'll grab you a bubotuber," Ron said, continuing down the hall alone, looking a little downtrodden.  
  
Lupin guided her out of the tide of rushing students and into an empty classroom. "I couldn't help but notice that you were quite upset about something," he began, training his gray eyes upon her, and it occurred to Hermione that, even now, he was more lined and worn than his age should allow.  
  
"Is everything all right?" he asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head; her puffy eyes and still damp face made lying a pointless option.  
  
"Is there anything I can do?"  
  
He was being so sweet and looking at her so kindly...Hermione was so touched by his consideration that she felt her eyes fill with water once more.  
  
"No," she sputtered.  
  
"Are you certain?" Lupin tapped the badge on his chest. "I am a prefect, you know, so I do have loads of power."  
  
He smiled wryly and Hermione could not help but return the gesture. She giggled through her fresh curtain of tears. "I don't doubt that," she said, wiping at her eyes and wishing she could stop blubbering, "I'm just homesick, is all."  
  
Lupin nodded. "If you ever need to talk, Hermione...I know you have Ron but..." He smiled again and offered a faint shrug. Was it her imagination, Hermione thought, or was he blushing?  
  
"Thanks, Remus," she said, fumbling to use his proper name. She then paused, her tears coming to an abrupt halt. "You know, of course, that having Ron doesn't mean...having Ron...in any sense other than as a friend...regardless of what he has told you. Right?"  
  
"Er...right," Lupin said, with a confused little frown. He cleared his throat and reached for his schoolbag. "Well, I, er, heard it was your birthday today..."  
  
He pulled a hastily wrapped package from his bag and extended it to her, and now Hermione was certain he was blushing, just as she was sure a flush was coming over her.  
  
Her hands trembled as she took the gift. She tore back the paper to find a leather bound copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' staring up at her.  
  
"It's nothing, really," Lupin said, "just a little something I thought you might enjoy..."  
  
"It's beautiful," she interrupted. "I just love it, Remus, thank you."  
  
She had embraced him and kissed his cheek before she could stop herself, and when she stood back and considered him, he looked altogether pleased. For her part, Hermione was thinking that perhaps she did hate it here after all.  
  
"I had better get to Herbology," she said, her lips tingling strangely, as if curious for more contact against his skin. She muttered another thanks and, mind racing, ran all the way to the greenhouses.  
  
Ron eyed her suspiciously as she plopped down beside him in front of a tray of bubotubers.  
  
"What is it?" he asked immediately.  
  
"Nothing," Hermione replied. Oh God. She was squeaking again.  
  
"What did Lupin want?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Why are you blushing?"  
  
"I'm not," Hermione said, grazing her hand over her cheek, which she found hopelessly warm. She sighed. "He just wanted to know if I was okay, is all."  
  
Lupin entered the greenhouse soon after, and as he sat down with James, Sirius, and Pettigrew, he was still smiling in an especially cheerful manner. Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from saying something moronic as he passed.  
  
Ron observed her, then Lupin, and then leaned in close to her. "Hermione," he whispered, sounding very determined, "I expressly forbid you to shag Lupin."  
  
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Ronald Weasley, will you ever learn?"  
  
"No, I mean it," Ron continued. "And no shagging Sirius either. In fact, I don't think you should shag anyone from the past."  
  
Hermione looked up at him. "No one from the past? Just the past?"  
  
Ron considered the point and then nodded. "Yeah. No changing the past, right? Well, shagging could change things, so no shagging. Deal?"  
  
"That goes for you, too, then," Hermione said.  
  
Ron looked miserable. "Shouldn't be a problem. The girls aren't exactly lining up for me, you know."  
  
Hermione smiled at him and extended her hand. "Deal."  
  
They shook on it, Hermione still smiling and Ron seeming pleased and relieved to have made it official.  
  
No shagging. Well, that was fine, Hermione thought. She certainly wasn't going to be shagging anyone. She was much too sensible and wise for such foolish actions. That sort of thing was for girls like Parvati and Lavender to do. She had other, more important matters to attend to.  
  
But her mind was already wandering to those very dangerous places. Hermione gave herself a good mental kick and struggled to pay attention as their lesson began.

-----  
  
Harry awoke on the morning of the nineteenth thinking of Hermione, and how they had wanted to spend her sixteenth birthday. He was planning on taking a jaunt into Hogsmeade for butterbeer and presents, while Ron was going to visit the kitchens to nick some food from the always accommodating house- elves. It was going to be quite the party...  
  
Harry rolled out of bed and made his way to the lavatory, knowing that there would be no party, and by the time he had dressed and gathered his things for lessons, he was in a remarkably foul mood.  
  
"When are Ron and Hermione coming back?" Neville asked as they sat for Herbology. It was one of the only classes still worth attending these days, as Professor Sprout had remained at the castle and was sticking to her usual lesson plans.  
  
"Dunno," Harry muttered. He wished Neville would leave him alone.  
  
"Is the reason they had to leave...does it have anything to do with You-Know- Who?"  
  
Harry sighed, his temper breaking slightly, as he remembered that Neville had risked his life last year in the Department of Mysteries, all because Harry had been too stubborn to listen to reason.  
  
"No," he said, the edge now absent from his voice, "they just had to take care of something outside of school. Nothing to worry about."  
  
Neville did not prod for further details, though his round face screwed up as he stared at Professor Sprout. "Something bad is happening, Harry," he said. "Professor Dumbledore and the others have been gone too long."  
  
Harry nodded. There was no use denying that.  
  
After Herbology, Harry made his way to the Great Hall, where he ate a quick lunch in silence. He was strolling toward the library, thinking he would see if he could duck into the Restricted Section, when he overhead voices coming from a classroom up ahead.  
  
"Oh, Remus, I think there are far moment important things to worry about now."  
  
Harry paused and turned his ear toward the door. McGonagall sounded impatient as ever, but Harry had rarely heard her take that tone with anyone other than her students.  
  
"I understand that, Minerva," Lupin responded, "but I do think it imperative that we get Ron and Hermione back as soon as possible. Not only because of what I remember," he said this quickly, as if placating her, "but for Harry's sake as well. You know as well as I do that what is coming will test him greatly. He will do far better with his friends at his side."  
  
The hairs on his neck rising to attention, Harry tiptoed ever closer to the room, hoping they would elaborate further. He had heard nothing like this from either of them so far, making it all the more crucial that he keep listening, as history had shown him that the things that were concealed were often the most important.  
  
"You remember little more than I do, Remus. Hermione and Ron arrived, took lessons, and after that, neither of us can say. They do not seem to be interfering with history, which remains our chief concern, and so we move forward with the Temporal Charm as planned. Whether or not you harbored a childish crush on Miss Granger is inconsequential and no reason to behave rashly."  
  
Harry nearly toppled over. Lupin fancied Hermione?  
  
"As for Harry," McGonagall continued, and Harry shook himself of thoughts of Lupin and Hermione to pay attention, "we are by his side now, as our countless others who will come if need be. And perhaps Hermione and Ron will be back before we ever need to worry about that." She sighed. "We may at least hope for that."  
  
The door opened and Harry, not eager to be caught eavesdropping by McGonagall, cast around for somewhere to hide. There was a suit of armor just done the hall...if he rushed he could perhaps duck behind it...  
  
"Potter! What are you doing?"  
  
Harry gave her his most innocent smile. "Just heading to the library, Professor. Wanted to see if I could help out with the Temporal Charm."  
  
McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. "I think it best if you just focus on your studies, Potter."  
  
"Will you be teaching Transfiguration today?" Harry asked. He actually hoped she would, and with a smile he thought of what Hermione would say if she knew how desperate he was for a return to real lessons.  
  
"Not today," she said, and she offered him no further explanation before whipping her robes behind her and disappearing down the hallway.  
  
All thoughts of heading to the library pushed aside, Harry ducked into the classroom McGonagall had just abandoned. Lupin stood near the window, eyes scanning the Hogwarts grounds, a funny sort of expression on his face.  
  
"Professor Lupin?"  
  
Lupin turned. "Harry," he said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"  
  
Harry leaned against a desk and decided the best way to get the answers he wanted was to drop pretense. "I heard you and Professor McGonagall talking a moment ago."  
  
His smiled faded and Lupin looked mildly panicked. "Harry, I would hate for you to get the wrong idea. I was a young man when I had those thoughts about Hermione and it was nothing more than an innocent crush..."  
  
Harry allowed Lupin to carry on like this for a moment before cutting in. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the other thing you said."  
  
"Oh." Lupin frowned. "Then please forget I said anything."  
  
"You said something was coming, Professor, that would test me. What is it?"  
  
Lupin went silent. He looked back out on the grounds and seemed to be weighing his words, calculating what to say next. Harry joined him at the window; the trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed angrily in an enormous gust of wind.  
  
Other than treks to and from the greenhouses for Herbology, he had not been out on the grounds since receiving the letter from Lupin the day Ron and Hermione disappeared. With Hagrid absent and his friends gone, he had no real need to, and now as he looked out at the grounds, so shadowy and foreboding, he was left with no desire to do so.  
  
Lupin sighed, the premature lines on his face looking harsher and deeper than ever, "Oh, Harry, surely you have guessed."  
  
Harry had. He imagined he was not the only one; other students had likely drawn the same conclusions he had but were merely in too great a state of denial to say the words aloud.  
  
"He's coming, isn't he?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.  
  
Lupin nodded. "Snape heard tell of it from the Death Eaters the night Percy was marked. Voldemort will lay siege on Hogwarts, and I expect it will be most brutal."  
  
"He never tried that before."  
  
"No." Lupin looked right at him. "But he never had reason before, did he?"  
  
Harry had felt this way so many times before but it was always dreadful. His scar began to prickle, for the first time since he had truly dedicated himself to Occlumency, in its old familiar way.  
  
"When?" he asked.  
  
Lupin sighed again. "Soon."  
  
The world seemed darker than ever despite the afternoon hour. Harry felt himself shiver and, perhaps knowing the movement had nothing to do with the cold, Lupin laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.-----  
  
The whole school emptied out of the castle after lessons had ended that day, and as one they marched down to the Quidditch Pitch, which had been transformed for the evening into the setting of the most extravagant picnic Hermione had ever seen. Five tables were set up just as they were in the Great Hall; four for the students and one for the staff. A huge banner hung from the goal posts, with a picture of a beautiful phoenix and the words 'Congratulations Albus Dumbledore on Five Wonderful Years' sparkling like fairy lights.  
  
"Kind of like the Yule Ball, isn't it?" Hermione said as she and Ron made their way to the Gryffindor table. Gold and silver streamers soared through the sky above their heads.  
  
"No Viktor though," Ron said.  
  
"No Viktor," she concurred, smiling at his wicked tone of voice. She snaked her arm through his.  
  
"You're much more cheerful than you were this morning," Ron said, grinning at her touch, the happiness playing on her smooth face beneath all the enchanted lights above. "What changed?"  
  
She thought of how sweet Lupin had been earlier and how Sirius's wink made her feel last night, but she knew Ron too well to ruin his evening with such confessions.  
  
"Well, it is my birthday," Hermione said at last. "And this," she gestured at the celebration playing all around them, "seems a nice way to spend it."  
  
They sat at the Gryffindor table and were soon joined by the same people they had vowed only days before to avoid. The four boys took the seats around Hermione and Ron, though James was sending frequent, hopeful glances down the table where Lily was seated with the other fifth year girls.  
  
"Bet the house-elves have really outdone themselves tonight," Sirius said as he plopped down next to Hermione.  
  
It seemed like more work for the house-elves, Hermione thought, to magic their dinners out of the castle and onto the grounds. She opened her mouth to say something to this effect but paused when the wind carried a voice to her ears.  
  
"...just appalling," Lily was saying, "for fellow magical beings to be treated like mere servants!"  
  
"They are servants, Lily," a plain girl Hermione knew as Selma replied. "It's what house-elves do, you know. They serve wizards."  
  
"And you see nothing wrong with that?" Lily said.  
  
Ron, also overhearing this exchange, shook his head in awe. "God, Hermione, I never thought we'd meet anyone who'd be as passionate about elf rights as you!"  
  
When the majority of students had settled at their various tables, Dumbledore rose to his feet and raised his hands. The rowdy students went quiet.  
  
"I thank you all for coming to this magnificent party. My years here at Hogwarts have been among the happiest of my life, but I will not bore you with tales you already know. Instead, I wish you all a glorious evening under the stars. Now, tuck in!"  
  
Food instantly appeared on the tables. Hermione watched, amused, as the boys piled a copious amount of meats, vegetables, and breads onto their plates, their eyes gleaming like they had never before had a proper meal. She decided to wait until they were through ravaging the various bowls and trays to fill her own plate, and instead reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.  
  
"Hold on there, Hermione," Sirius said, catching her hand mid-reach and drawing it back. His touch was warm on her skin, and she hoped the light was too inadequate to reveal the flush on her face.  
  
"We have something better," James added, at last tearing his eyes from Lily. He reached into his robes and withdrew a gleaming silver flask. Lupin frowned knowingly.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea," he said mildly, as if he knew protesting would do little good. Sure enough, James smirked and Sirius rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, lighten up, Moony. A little firewhiskey never hurt anyone." He grinned and looked over at Hermione. "You want some?"  
  
Hermione glanced quickly at Ron.  
  
"We could get in loads of trouble," he said, sounding uncertain and curious all at the same time.  
  
"Yeah, guess we could," James sighed. "But, then, what's life without a little trouble?" He poured a generous splash of firewhiskey into his goblet and passed the flask to Sirius, who did the same.  
  
"So, Hermione," Sirius said, posing the flask above her glass, "are you in or out?"  
  
Hermione worked hard not to look up at the staff table, where Dumbledore, who had trusted her and Ron thus far, was happily digging into his meal. She tried to avoid looking at Ron, who was gapping, or Lupin, who was still frowning ever so slightly. Normally she would never even consider drinking like this, but these were not exactly normal circumstances, were they?  
  
Besides, it was tiring, really, always doing what was right and proper. And maybe, she thought hopefully, a little alcohol would dull the swirling, nagging thoughts swarming her mind.  
  
"What the hell?" she said at last, causing Ron to do a double take that appeared to hurt his neck. "It is my birthday, after all. Might as well celebrate."  
  
"That's my girl!" Sirius exclaimed proudly, emptying the remainder of the whiskey into her glass. Lupin was frowning in an entirely different manner now, his eyes traveling to Sirius, a nasty line appearing between his eyes.  
  
Hermione stared at her goblet apprehensively, as if the smoking liquid inside was perhaps some sort of terrifying potion, rather than a simple spirit. Noticing her hesitation with a smile, James nudged the pitcher of pumpkin juice toward her.  
  
"Here," he said. "It'll make it easier to swallow."  
  
It seemed that neither he nor Sirius needed pumpkin juice, as they both lifted their glasses and chugged the drink within with only the slightest grimace. Pettigrew looked on with his typical air of hero worship.  
  
"Do you have any more of that?" he asked.  
  
"Sorry, Pete," James said. "Nothing more than a drop or two left."  
  
"That might be enough for you though," Sirius added. He tossed the empty flask at Pettigrew and cast an eye on Hermione.  
  
With the pumpkin juice added, the drink looked much more palatable, and Hermione slowly lifted her goblet. Aware that they were all watching her, she took a sip and tried to keep a straight face as the strange taste swept over her tongue, the sweetness of the juice barely masking the hot intensity of the liquor.  
  
Sirius grinned at her and began shoveling food into his mouth, while Lupin looked simultaneously impressed and disappointed. Ron reached for the glass.  
  
"Can I?" he asked.  
  
Hermione nodded, still trying not to blanch as the liquor burned her empty stomach. Ron, however, made no such attempt at bravado, spitting the liquid onto the ground as soon as it touched his lips.  
  
"Blech!" he cried. "That's just disgusting!"  
  
Sirius and James both laughed. "Guess Red can't handle the heat," Sirius said. "What about you, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "It's all right," she said coolly, taking another, deeper drink.  
  
Her vision started to blur around the edges as the meal progressed, and as she alternated bites of food with sips of her drink, she wondered if she perhaps should have protested the amount of liquor Sirius poured into her glass. It had been quite a lot, after all, more than either he or James poured themselves, and sure enough neither of them seemed to be feeling its effects.  
  
By the time the entrees were cleared and desserts appeared, Hermione felt that she was, for the first time in her life, drunk. She may have even been imagining things, because as she served herself some treacle tart, she suddenly thought she felt a hand slide gently over her knee.  
  
Hermione looked down at her lap and discovered, to her profound surprise, that she was not imagining things at all. Sirius had landed his hand on her knee, and was casually brushing it up her thigh, as if there was nothing unusual or dangerous about the activity at all.  
  
"I want to show you something," he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that Hermione could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating, on her neck.  
  
"But the feast isn't over yet," she muttered in a voice that sounded much too muddled to be her own.  
  
"No one'll notice," Sirius promised, and when Hermione looked around she saw that he was probably quite right. Students were mingling, floating from table to table, visiting with friends from other Houses, and the diners at the staff table looked as if they too had imbibed a bit of firewhiskey.  
  
"Okay," she breathed. Sirius took her hand and led her from the table, away from the crowd, and if Ron called after them, Hermione failed to hear him. She was having such difficultly walking with her robes swaying around her feet that she was unable to concentrate on anything other than following Sirius.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
  
"You'll see," Sirius said.  
  
He guided her onward, straight toward the Forbidden Forest, but just when Hermione thought he would lead her into the dark tangle of trees she instead found that he was taking her to a very familiar cabin that stood at the edge of the grounds.  
  
"But, Sirius, Hagrid is still at the feast," she said  
  
"That's the point," Sirius said with a smile. He extracted what Hermione thought was a penknife from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. It turned with a satisfying click and Sirius pushed the door open.  
  
The cabin was dark and empty. Hermione expected Fang to bound over to greet them, but the giant boarhound was nowhere in sight, and she wondered idly if Hagrid had yet acquired the beast.  
  
"Lumos," Sirius whispered. The wandlight swept over the cabin, illuminating the wooden table, chest of drawers, and gigantic bed...  
  
It slowly dawned on Hermione what they were doing here, and even in her clumsy, drunken state she was filled with the knowledge that this was a terrible idea. She should suggest that they go back to the feast at once, before she did something rash...like break the deal she had made with Ron.  
  
But all those reasonable thoughts died when Sirius put a hand on her face, brushing her hair away and standing so close that she could almost feel his heartbeat.  
  
"There's something about you that I just can't figure out," he muttered before lowering his lips to hers.  
  
Hermione was swept up, utterly breathless, in his kiss, a thousand feelings coming over her at once. Sirius drew her close and pulled her over to the bed.  
  
Hermione had never once lain in bed with a boy before, nor had she ever been kissed like this. All the little pecks she had shared with Viktor seemed suddenly small and insignificant; nothing like this. Sirius was kissing her like he wanted to devour her, his hands going places as yet uncharted by another being.  
  
Hermione could only return his every hungry gesture, desperate for how he was making her feel, until a flash of memory broke through the haze in her mind. She thought suddenly of a veil, swaying in an unfelt breeze, drawing a boy she cared for so much ever alarmingly closer...  
  
"Stop," she whispered, pushing Sirius from atop her and rolling awkwardly off the bed. She made for the door but stumbled drunkenly, collapsing against the table for support.  
  
Sirius leapt from the bed and rushed over to her, his arms going around her waist as he guided her into one of the kitchen chairs. Hermione was panting, on fire from head to toe, afraid to look directly at him as he knelt beside her seat.  
  
"Just relax," he said, his brow wrinkling with concern. "We don't have to do anything, Hermione."  
  
Hermione knew that, but she could feel his want and desire, feel it reflected in her own, and soon she was kissing him again, tumbling out of the chair and landing roughly on the floor beside him.  
  
He tasted like spices, like worlds she had never seen and places she had never been. He was all the things she had always denied herself, the indulgence of every greedy, selfish thought she had ever had. He was the most gorgeous boy she had ever laid eyes on, and, in this moment, she was all his.  
  
If she could have, she would have stopped time and kept him there forever, kissing her, safe from all that she knew lay ahead. Hermione wished she had the power, wild and unimaginable, to change the world.  
  
And then she knew. She did.  
  
She could change the world; his world. She could save his life if she wanted.  
  
Hermione pushed him away again. She lay flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling, her heart fluttering frantically in her chest, the numbing effects of the firewhiskey waning as her mind began to race once more.  
  
"I can't," she whispered. "It's too much. It's just too much."  
  
"What is?" Sirius nuzzled her neck. "What's too much?"  
  
"This," she insisted. "I know the rules. We're not supposed to change anything. We promised Dumbledore that we wouldn't change anything."  
  
Sirius propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Hermione continued as if she had not even heard him. "But how can I just let it happen?" she muttered. "How can I?"  
  
She got unsteadily to her feet and hurried out of the cabin without looking back, ignoring Sirius when he asked her to wait, to talk to him. She charged back to the castle, nausea coming over her in waves.  
  
How could she have been so stupid? She never should have let Dumbledore believe that she and Ron could handle this. It was impossible, she knew now, to interact with Sirius, James, Lupin and the others without eventually violating the rules of time travel.  
  
She should have seen it coming. She and Ron should have stayed locked away in some secret room in the castle, waiting for Harry to rescue them, rather than stray into these perilous waters. Even she, clever as she was, had just come terribly close to telling Sirius everything. Another five minutes alone with him and it all would have come spilling from her lips.  
  
Hermione strayed from the path as she neared the castle, coming to rest upon her knees in the same brush she and Ron had hidden in their first night in the past. She retched horribly, stars flashing before her eyes as every last ounce of whiskey and tart rose up out of her.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
She was flooded with a mingled feeling of relief and shame. "Don't come any closer," she said. "I don't want you to see me like this."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "You've watched me vomit garden slugs, Mione. I doubt this could be much worse."  
  
Hermione wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as Ron crouched down beside her.  
  
"Think you've had a bit much to drink," Ron said, his voice even and calm, lacking the accusation Hermione knew she would feel were their roles reversed. "Where's Sirius?"  
  
Hermione wished he had asked her any other question in the world. She shook her head miserably. "I dunno. Maybe back at Hagrid's cabin."  
  
"Hagrid's cabin?" Ron repeated. "What were you doing..."  
  
He went quiet, frowning at the ground as the answer to the unfinished question hung in the air between them.  
  
"It's not what you think," she said. "I mean...nothing happened...not really."  
  
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Hermione," Ron said.  
  
But she wanted him to know. It seemed important that he understand.  
  
"Come on," Ron continued. "I'll get you to bed."  
  
Ron helped Hermione get to her feet and allowed her to lean heavily against him as they made their way into the castle. It was slow work mounting the seemingly endless staircases, with Hermione dragging her feet every step of the way. As they reached the fifth floor her head began lolling about on her shoulders, and she soon sat down upon the floor near the statue of Boris the Bewildered and refused to get back up.  
  
"I'm just too tired," she groaned. "I don't want to do it anymore."  
  
"Don't have a choice, I'm afraid," Ron said, trying to pull her upright. "If you stay here some teacher's bound to find you and then you'll be done for. You stink of whiskey, Mione."  
  
"Do not," she muttered.  
  
Ron sighed as he realized that she would be walking no further tonight. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the seventh floor.  
  
"Mallowsweet," he said as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She swung forward and allowed them admittance into the Gryffindor common room. It was empty; the students were all still down at the party for Dumbledore.  
  
Ron had nearly started up the stairs to the girls' dormitory before he remembered what had happened the last time he had taken those steps. In no mood to set off the alarm, he briefly considered depositing Hermione, who was now snoring lightly, in one of the various chintz chairs before the fire, but it seemed unfair to leave her when she was in such a state, and he was in no mood to sit down here, waiting for the other students to return.  
  
Instead Ron carried her up to his dorm and placed her on his bed. He lay down carefully beside her, trying very hard to keep ample space between their bodies, hoping she would be awake and sobered up by the time his dormmates returned.  
  
But keeping space between them was more difficult than he had originally suspected, as Hermione had soon snuggled close against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron," she muttered.  
  
Her eyes were still closed. Ron wondered if she was even aware of what she was doing.  
  
"For what?" he asked.  
  
Hermione did not reply for a long time, and Ron thought she had probably drifted back to sleep, until her answer came in a voice barely over a whisper.  
  
"I should have gone with you to the Yule Ball."  
  
Ron could not believe his ears. Hermione moved ever closer to him as fireworks lit up the sky outside, illuminating her still form as she slept in his arms. 


End file.
